The Immortal Coil
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Sequel to my fic, "Habeas Corpus." Spike goes with Buffy to Italy, where he faces a new rival for her affections: The Immortal. Inspired by "Angel" "The Girl in Question." Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon. UPDATED Ch 10-13 is INSIDE
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Spike, the former vampire, lay with his back to the sun, soaking up the warm Italian rays by a crystal blue swimming pool. Like a white lizard on a rock, he basked in utter bliss and relaxation on the long wooden lounger, not a muscle moving, though mentally alert should some outside danger need his immediate attention. Or _someone, _like the blonde, bikini-clad Slayer who lay on her back in the chair beside him. His highly sensitive ears picked up the relaxed beat of her heart, the soft breaths she took as she dozed. Spike had died twice in his long existence, but only now was he finally experiencing what heaven could be, a joy so complete that it was sometimes scary in its intensity. Contentment like that surely couldn't last, he thought. But he'd learned to push those doubts away and enjoy the moment. Otherwise, he might just go stark raving mad.

The chirping of nearby birds awoke Buffy to the fact that she should probably turn over before she got sunburned. She looked over at Spike, a study of alabaster in sunshine. Her gaze devoured his beauty, starting with the soft, platinum hair that tended to curl a little, despite his best efforts with the gel. Then her eyes wandered to his muscular back, perfect in its lithe definition, and on down to his tight behind, clad now in royal blue swimming trunks. Slightly impure thoughts made her mouth water, but she couldn' t resist finishing her visual exploration, so she continued south to admire his powerful thighs, muscular calves, and smooth feet no spa treatment could emulate. He'd been trying every afternoon in vain to get a tan, but his new healing powers would kick in every time his skin was even slightly tinged with color, so he remained vampire pale. He seemed a little frustrated by this, but it didn't stop him from enjoying the wonder of actually being able to be in the sun without bursting into flames.

Spike heard her pulse pick up, and wondered what naughty thoughts were suddenly occupying her mind. He certainly recognized when his Slayer was excited, having shagged her every which way from Sunday in these last two weeks they'd been here. He heard her get up from the chair and kneel beside him, her warm breath fanning his ear, causing his own heart to go irregular. "Time to flip, flapjack," she whispered.

Buffy knew he wasn't asleep when she saw his sensual mouth twitch at her words. She couldn't resist reaching over to caress his oiled back, hot to the touch due to the sun combined with his already high temperature. Her hand roamed down to the waistband of his trunks, then slipped inside to cup his muscled buttocks, finally eliciting the response she was looking for—a soft, welcoming moan. Before she could register what was happening, he had turned to his back and pulled her on top of him, so that she now straddled the rising hardness she'd coaxed with her teasing touches. She tried to no avail to see the blue eyes no doubt twinkling with mischief behind the mirrored aviator glasses he wore. All she could see was her own disheveled reflection, her breasts rising and falling rapidly at her new surprising position.

"You think I'm done now, luv," he inquired sexily, tongue curling behind his teeth, his pelvis rising suggestively.

"Maybe on one side. Time to oil up your front now. Don't want you to get a nasty burn," she teased, knowing full well his annoyance on that subject. But there was no way she was going to pass up the opportunity to give his front the same loving treatment she'd given his back an hour before. She reached down into her bag between their chairs and pulled out a bottle of suntan oil, removing the cap and allowing it to softly drip over his wondrous torso. She watched his chest quiver at each drop. Using both hands, she began rubbing it slowly into his skin, her strong fingers moving first to his shoulders, then to his hard biceps, then back to his chest. Beneath his hot skin, she could feel the heavy pounding of his heart, could see his pecs moving up and down with his quickened breathing. Her hands moved lower now, outlining each muscle of his six-pack, then lower still, hesitating wickedly where the fabric of his shorts began. But at this he could take no more, pulling her down to his waiting lips, gently but forcefully invading her mouth with his talented tongue, sharing the oil on his chest with hers as they moved in a sensuous dance.

"Get a room, already," said Dawn, only slightly disgusted at the sight of her sister and her lover making out in broad daylight. In truth, she was delighted to have them both here, together, happy and obviously in love.

"Dawn!" squeaked Buffy, jumping off of Spike, who hurriedly grabbed a towel to throw over the front of his trunks. Dawn snickered to herself, but didn't comment.

_Bloody fine super-hearing I have, _Spike chided himself. Seems the only weakness he had these days was when he was wrapped up in the Slayer.

"Buffy, someone is here to see you. He's waiting in the house." Buffy looked longingly at Spike, who smiled in complete understanding. She thanked Dawn and grabbed her robe, heading back up the cobblestone path to the villa. Dawn had obviously come for a swim, wearing a modest one-piece suit and flip-flop sandals, a towel in one hand and a beach bag in the other. She spread her towel on the chair Buffy had vacated, kicking off her sandals and pulling out the sunscreen. She eyed Spike, who seemed to be trying to regain control of himself.

"So , you got nothing better to do than mack on my sister all day?"

He tried not to smile at her mother hen tone. "Shouldn't you be in school, little bit?"

"It's Saturday, as you well know. 'Sides, I wanted to get down here before all the potentials filled the pool up. They're driving me bananas."

This villa on the outskirts of Rome currently housed twenty potential slayers, all being trained by Buffy, Giles, and now Spike, preparing them to relocate to the Hellmouth in Cleveland. Faith and Robin Wood had taken the surviving slayers from Sunnydale and set up shop there, training their own arriving potentials. The plan was to totally saturate the area until a way to close the Hellmouth could be found, and with all the potential slayers in the world needing guidance, they felt there needed to be a headquarters both in Europe and in the States. Willow was in South America with Oz, working on finding out mystics who knew about spells that closed Hellmouths. Xander was missing in action, but Dawn had her fingers crossed that he would find a way to deal with the pain of the loss of Anya, and make his way back to them. Whether he thought so or not, they needed him here. She and Buffy missed his wit and funny stories, needed the experience he'd gotten fighting demons almost as long as Buffy had.

"So, who's this mystery man come to see Buffy?" Spike asked casually. Dawn caught the hint of jealousy in his tone that he tried to hide.

"Some guy that's been helping us. He says he'll donate about 10,000 Euro every month, which is a good thing, 'cause Giles ran out of his own money when he put the down payment on this place. With most of the Watcher's Council gone, we're pretty much on our own here."

"Buffy never mentioned you were strapped for cash. I mean, I have some hidden I could have dug up."

"As if she would tell you about it. And now with Damian's help, we have enough to keep ourselves afloat—if we don't take in too many potentials at a time."

Spike pondered this new information, wondering if Buffy hadn't shared it with him herself because it was a trust issue, or because she didn't want to worry him. He chose to believe the latter, secure finally in her love for him, in her forgiveness for his numerous past transgressions. He still couldn't help feeling out of the loop—which it seemed, in fact, he was. He'd have to make his position clear that if he was going to be a part of what they were doing here, he wanted to be in on everything—good and bad. Buffy would just have to get used to the fact that she wasn't alone anymore.

"Does this Damian character know what's really goin' on here?" he asked Dawn, who had finished applying her sunscreen and was sitting on the edge of the pool, her feet making lazy circles in the cool water. She looked over her shoulder at him.

"Yeah, he seemed to know everything about us. Who Buffy is, what Giles does. He said he has a personal interest in ridding the world of evil. Being so hard up, we weren't going to ask too many questions."

This didn't sound right to Spike. It was unlike Buffy and Giles to be so trusting of a stranger. There had to be a catch.

"What did he ask for in return?" Spike asked, a suspicious knot suddenly forming in his stomach.

Dawn grinned at his expression, even with the aviators shielding some of it. "All he asked for was a date with Buffy."

Spike was rendered speechless with jealous rage, and his mind worked overtime to keep himself from running after Buffy and beating this wanker to a bloody pulp. How dare some git try to buy his Slayer. And she so desperate she fell for it. He gritted his teeth so he could ask the obvious next question without snarling.

"And has he collected on his date, then?"

Dawn's grin turned to a full-faced smile. "Not yet," she said, looking at her feet again with glee. He really loved her, otherwise this wouldn't have bugged him at all. It was a comforting thing to know. "It was set for the day after she went to LA to get you. I guess he must be here to reschedule."

"And what did you say this bloke's name was again?"

"Damian Giordano. But people around here seem to know him as The Immortal. Doesn't that sound kinda cheesy? I mean, what conceit. It's not like he's a vampire or any—"

But when Dawn looked back at the lounge chair again, Spike was gone.

Chapter 2

Buffy had just shut the door after Damian Giordano had left when suddenly a flash of white and blue plowed past her. Spike flung open the door, only to see the tail of the black stretch limo pulling away. He actually shook his fist at the vehicle, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Come back you bloody thievin' bastard! I'll rip your arms off and pummel you with them! I'll shove your head so far up your arse you'll turn inside out! Get back here ya fuckin' sonuvabitch!" He had run halfway down the front steps, his pulse pounding in rage. Buffy just stared at him in shock, for she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him so angry. She watched him seethe a moment, then his head dropped in frustration. He looked up at her, his face red with emotion, but not the least bit contrite at his outrageous behavior. Slowly, he climbed back up the steps.

Giles too had witnessed the spectacle, and stood by in shock. Catching the Watcher's eye, Spike apparently wasn't finished with his diatribe yet. He walked straight up to Giles and got right in his face, his voice dropping dangerously.

"Rupert," his hissed, "I don't believe you've been doin' your Watcherly duties, mate. Tell me, did you do any research on The Immortal bastard that's been fillin' your coffers, or was gettin' them filled all you bleedin' cared about?"

Giles was not intimidated. His voice was calm and very British. "Now see here, Spike, I most certainly looked in to Damian's background. I know who he is, what he has done in the past. He's a womanizer who will likely live forever, but other than that, completely harmless."

"Oh, is that all? And you allow this—this—_womanizer _to have a go at Buffy here?"

"Hey!" protested Buffy. She came over and pushed an unsuspecting Spike away from Giles. "Nobody's goin' at anybody here. What the hell is wrong with you?"

By this time, Spike seemed to have calmed down somewhat. His face had lost its angry color, but he was still obviously agitated. Buffy would have stood by to ogle his half-naked state if she weren't so annoyed herself. It wasn't every day that Spike and his glorious, oil-slicked body graced the foyer.

"Now, tell me what's got you so whigged out," she said softly, prying his clenched fists apart so she could take his hands in hers. She led him to a nearby couch in the parlor, making him sit down with her.

"The Immortal, pet. He and I have a…history. I guess it wasn't in the Watchers' Journals," he said, throwing a sarcastic expression back at Giles. "This ponce beguiled Drusilla--oh, and Darla too. You might ask Angel's opinion of the wanker if you don't believe me. He had Angel and I captured , strung us up in a barn so he could shag Dru and Darla--at the same time, I might add. They were traumatized for days after. It was so bad, Dru didn't even want to--he has no respect for other people's belongings. I swore if I ever saw him again…"

"And this has your knickers in a twist," smirked Giles. Buffy felt Spike start to rise at that remark. She pulled him back down. "A long ago tryst with your ex- vampire lover is not worth losing our funding, Spike,"Giles continued. "I suggest you deal with these feelings and leave them in the past, before you bugger things up for us here."

Spike finally met Buffy's eyes. "You feel the same way, luv? You gotta believe me, this bloke is a master of manipulating women. I'm told he uses no spells or glamours on them, but I'm convinced he must hypnotize them, or put them in a trance of some sort. I don't want you goin' out with him."

"What? Damian and I have a business agreement, Spike. Dinner is the least I can do after all his help and support."

At her easy acquiescence to The Immortal's demands, Spikes anger flared anew. He wrenched his hands from hers and got to his feet. "Just dinner, eh? He pays you money. You give him what he wants. Just what kind of _business_ is that, sweetheart?"

That remark was met with a collective gasp coming from the direction of the stairwell. Unbeknownst to the trio in the parlor, twenty potential slayers in a rainbow of bathing suits had paused on their way down the stairs, halted by the unusual sound of voices raised in argument. As women, they were all understandably offended by Spike's implications. Giles hurried over to usher them through the house toward the door leading to the pool. He further chose that excuse to let Buffy and Spike work this out on their own.

"If you were still a vampire," Buffy nearly growled, "you'd be a pile of dust for that crack." Spike had realized almost immediately he'd said the wrong thing. All the anger rushed out of him and he looked sheepishly back at her. He dragged his hand through his hair and sighed raggedly.

"I'm sorry luv, truly. I didn't mean it. You just don't know the hell he put me through, and I can't bear the idea of losin' you to such a prick. I've never heard of him not getting what he wants. And according to Dru and Darla, he's so good in the sack no woman can resist him."

"Have a little faith in me, Spike. I'm not an idiot. I have a pretty good idea what he wants from me, but he's not gonna get it. All he's getting from me is a dinner companion for one evening. What harm could that be, if I'm going into this with my eyes wide open? Dru and Darla were a couple of disloyal bitches who'd screw any guy that caught their eye. I'm not that way, Spike. You know I'm not."

He pulled her close to him, fear twisting his gut in ways he'd never imagined possible since she'd taken that nose dive to save Dawn and the world. "It's not you I don't trust, Buffy. It's that asshole who has powers you aren't prepared for. Please, I'm beggin' ya luv. Don't do this. I'll find some other way to get your money. I'd flip burgers at a Doublemeat Palace before I'd let you lose this place." They both smiled a little in memory of her tour as a fast food employee back in Sunnydale. But his attempt at humor was not going to sway her from what she saw as her duty.

"He's picking me up tomorrow evening at six. I'll be gone a couple hours, and ask him to take me home as soon as I politely can. Then I'll spend the rest of the night making it up to you." She leaned in and huskily whispered in his ear, one hand trailing softly down his chest then further down to lightly cup him through his trunks. "I'll make it worth your while. You _and_ Little Spike."

He pretended to cave in to her particular brand of manipulation, but his mind was racing as to how he could protect her on her date. "Not so little, baby," he growled, pressing her hand more tightly against him. He dipped his head and caught her lips with his, hoping his seeming capitulation would placate her until he figured out a plan of his own. One thing was sure in Spike's mind—The Immortal wasn't going to take Buffy. She was worth at least a thousand Dru's to him.

That night, Spike made love to Buffy with more intensity than he'd shown since he was made corporeal. She somehow felt like he was trying to memorize her, to hold the moment so that he would never forget. He worshipped her with his hands and mouth, stopping often just to hold her and breathe endearments into her hair, her ears, her lips. At one point, she felt a slight wetness on his cheeks, so she brought his face up to hers. She saw his sapphire eyes glimmering in the candlelight.

"What is it?" she whispered. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut a moment.

"Nothin'," he finally said. "I just can't believe you're here with me. That you love me like I love you. Sometimes I feel like I'm dreamin', and I'm scared I'm gonna wake up. Then I feel you next to me, I feel how it is to be inside of you, and I'm overwhelmed with it. Sorry…don't mean to be such a git."

"I'm sensing no git-ness here," she smiled gently, wiping his face with her palms. "This is real. You have nothing to be afraid of. I'm not going anywhere."

He kissed her softly, then began moving within her again. It wasn't long before she was trembling with the power of his thrusts, as if he were desperately trying to get more deeply inside of her, to fuse himself to her forever. When they'd both found completion, he reluctantly withdrew from her, but pulled her tightly back to his side.

"I love you," he whispered to her, over and over, until it was almost like a lullaby, and she fell asleep in his arms.

Chapter 3

It was good that Spike had something to do the next day, otherwise he would have done something stupid, like find The Immortal Wanker and bludgeon him to death. As it was, he tried his best to focus on taking turns sparing with each of the potentials. It was all so mindless to him he felt he could literally beat every one of them in his sleep. He wasn't overpowering them, but he wasn't giving them much of a chance either. After the tenth girl he'd done this way, Buffy, who was standing to the side watching with interest, chose that time to intervene.

She reached down to pull up the little redhead, who was lying on the gym mat, panting hard after Spike's last blow knocked the wind out of her. Buffy gave Spike a meaningful look, which he seemed not even to see.

"Hey, Spike," she said to him, sotto voce, "try to focus, okay?" He snapped out of it a little when he saw she was facing him on the mat. The two of them hadn't sparred since Spike had returned from the dead, so he immediately perked up at the thought of being able to finally beat the Slayer. They'd established he was stronger in LA, but strength didn't always overpower finesse, so he was interested to see how things had changed since the days she would sucker punch him in the nose. His familiar, cocky grin let Buffy know he'd suddenly come out of his funk.

"Well, well, well, Slayer. You wanna play with the big boys now, yeah?"

"You don't look any bigger to me, _William_," she taunted. She listened to the soft laughter of the other girls. They began circling each other, sizing each other up now that the balance had shifted some.

"It's not the size of the dog in the fight, luv…"

"It's the size of the fight in the bitch," she finished, landing her first kick into his tight stomach. He didn't even double over, as he would have not so long ago. His smile grew wider.

"Watch and learn, pets," he said to the room at large. And then it was on. They danced into their old familiar rhythm, but Buffy knew he wasn't even exerting himself. She used all her best moves, landing a punch here, a kick there, but he deflected them all with ease. The potentials watched in awe, not only at the beauty and grace of their movements, but at the heightened sexual tension coming off the pair in waves.

"Quit holding back," Buffy finally said as he let her pin him on the mat. She looked down into his twinkling eyes. This was fun for him—for both of them, really. This had been their five years of foreplay, back when they were more evenly matched. But now she wasn't about to be allowed to win if he wasn't giving her his all. There wasn't a chip in his head to hold him back now. He nodded at her wickedly, and she knew he was about to open the floodgates. It took about two seconds to have their positions switched—she was now on her back and he had her arms pressed into the mat.

"You sure 'bout this, Slayer?" She tried to get free, but she was right and truly pinned. Getting into the spirit of the new game, he helped her up again. She launched herself at him in answer, and managed to push him back a few feet, but another two seconds, and she was on her back again. The girls applauded and laughed at her predicament. Over and over, she was checkmated in record time. There was no way she could beat him now without a weapon. While this frustrated her to no end, she was secretly excited for him. She knew what it felt like to be indomitable, so she was willing to allow him this feeling, a repayment for all the times she'd pummeled him till he was battered and bloodied.

Buffy also concluded that a strong Spike was a sexy Spike. As he lay on top of her on the mat for the fifth time, he caught the subtle change in her expression, his nose flaring slightly as he scented her desire. Buffy knew she might have lost the battle, but they both were going to win soon as the potentials were out of the way. It took a moment and some knowing laughter from their audience before Spike had the wherewithal to stop fantasizing and get up off her. He pulled her up by the hand to stand beside him.

"And that, ladies, is what can happen when you confront something stronger than you without a weapon," Buffy told them, smirking good-naturedly at Spike. "Be prepared. Always be armed or scanning your surroundings for something you can use to fight. Strong as anything out there might be, most things can be killed by decapitation. Why don't you all go outside and work at hacking those hay bales with the new machetes."

They all excitedly converged on the wall where the shiny new weapons hung, chattering animatedly about the demonstration they'd just watched, and the vamps they planned to behead some day. When their girlish voices had moved up the stairs and out of the basement, Spike grabbed Buffy and pulled her in for a much-needed kiss. Good to know that, no matter their change in circumstance, fighting still got both of them incredibly hot. A few breathless moments later, Buffy pulled away.

"Wow," she muttered, "I forgot how good it feels to fight you."

He chuckled softly. "Now you know why I always came back for more of your abuse. I wasn't really a masochist; I was a sex-fiend."

"Well, that explains it." And she wound her arms around his warm waist, her ear pressed against the pounding heart in his chest. They stood there a moment, till their pulses settled down.

"Why were you acting so weird earlier," Buffy asked, remembering his preoccupation when he was training the potentials. She felt and heard his sigh beneath the black t-shirt he wore. He gently let her go and walked away, his back to her.

"I'm still worried about that date of yours, pet. I'm not sure you're quite gettin' ma point a view here."

"Spike, you gotta quit this. We'll be in a public place. You're really going psycho over this." He turned abruptly to face her. His Slayer was the most stubborn woman he knew, and he realized that logic now was his final recourse. If this didn't work, well it was on to Plan B. He was pretty sure she wouldn't like Plan B.

"Somethin's been buggin' me that the Niblet mentioned yesterday. She said The Immortal knew everythin' about you. Well, if that's the case, it wouldn't have taken a Watcher to discover you'd had two vampire lovers. And not much more research to find out it was Angelus and I you'd bedded. Some coincidence, eh? I wouldn't put it past the burk to put it to us again, like he did with Darla and Dru."

He could almost see the wheels turning in that sharp brain of hers. Thinking was good. Her thinking made him hope.

"Say you're right," Buffy began tentatively. "Say he is playing some sick game with me. I've met the guy on more than one occasion, and he had no attraction for me. For one thing, I was too busy grieving for you, and for another, he's just not my type. Too brunette. No sexy British accent." She smiled enticingly at him, but he didn't smile back.

"He might notta been turnin' up the charm full blast. Could be he was waitin' to give you a taste of the lotus flower." When she looked at him blankly, he sighed in frustration, his hand inevitably going up to smooth out his hair. "Didn't you pay attention in Literature class? _The Odyssey, _luv. _The Odyssey. _Ma point is you may have no control over yourself, and not even realize it. You might 'lose your hope of home,' and I'd have to tie you up to get you away from him. Under normal circumstances, that might be fun, but I'm thinkin' you wouldn't like it much."

She considered him a moment. Spike wasn't one to overstate things. Sometimes he was known to _understate,_ when he was leaving relevant things out, but exaggeration wasn't one of his habits. Despite this, she felt compelled to have her date anyway, for fear that all that money they so desperately needed could be taken from them. Having dinner didn't make her a prostitute. Did it?

"It's just one date, Spike. Please have some faith in me. I can take care of myself. By this evening it will be over, and all your fears will be laid to rest." She kissed him on the cheek. "I love how you're so protective of me, but there's nothing to get all worked up over. I'm not your typical girl, remember?"

"Yeah, alright, then. Guess there's no convincin' ya. Just try not to forget me when he's got you under his spell." He tried to sound breezy about it, leave things on a positive note so she wouldn't be suspicious he might take matters into his own hands, which is precisely what he intended to do. She traced his lips with her thumb.

"How could I ever forget you, Spike? You keep turning up just when I think you're gone for good." She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Sorry, gotta go get ready. I need to jump in the shower. You could join me…"

"As tempting as that is, I gotta few things of ma own to do. I won't say 'have fun,' but I will tell you to be careful."

"I love you. That's something I'll never forget," she whispered, kissing him. With that, she left him standing alone in the basement.

"Plan B it is, luv," said Spike, looking after her with much apprehension.

Chapter 4

A/N: Apologies to anyone who speaks Italian or has ever been to Rome. If you see any mistakes, call the following chapter poetic license---please??!!

Needless to say, Spike did not make an appearance to see Buffy off on her date with The Immortal. It was just too painful, and also, he didn't want to tip his hand by kicking his ass. But he still had the problem of where the bastard was taking her. He certainly wasn't going to ask Buffy, and she wasn't very forthcoming, likely because she didn't want him following her and screwing things up. So, he turned to the next best thing. He knocked on Dawn's door.

"Nibblet, can I come in?" How she could hear him over the loud music, he didn't know, but the door opened almost immediately.

"Sure. What's up?" He looked at the stereo with his best fatherly expression. Dawn huffed once, rolled her eyes, and turned it down. "You were so much more fun when you were evil."

"Maybe if you weren't playin' that hip hop rot, I'd have you crankin' her up, pet." She directed him to her desk chair, which he picked up and sat in backwards. "I need some information."

"Oh?" she asked innocently. "What info can I possibly have for you, Spike?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You gonna make me choke it out of you, or are ya gonna just spill it."

"That depends," was her sly reply. "There's something I want." He knew this might be coming, so he dug in his back pocket and pulled out a wad of cash.

Dawn glanced at the money, and sniffed at it. "Not enough. No—I want an iPod."

"An I-what?"

"An iPod. All my friends are getting them. It's like a Walkman, without the CD's. It holds hundreds of songs, and it's really small."

"How much?"

"Two hundred Euro." At his shocked expression, she played her trump card.

"Hey, I was sworn to secrecy. She only told me in case of an emergency. I hate betraying her trust." She looked at the digital clock on her stereo. "Time's a-wasting….they're probably already ordering by now."

"Fine, ya hustler, but I don't have the money together just now. Now, where are they?"

She smirked victoriously. "A place called Romeo's—near the Coliseum."

He snorted. "Romeo's. That bloody figures." He stood and kissed Dawn on the forehead with a loud smack. "Thanks, Bit, I owe you."

"Yeah you do," she called after him as he took off through the house at full speed.

Spike had the taxi drop him off near the Coliseum, and he moved quickly through the crowds of tourists and the crazy traffic until he found the restaurant. As luck would have it, they were eating al fresco, so he snuck up behind some nearby bushes to watch. The outside lighting came from romantic strands of white lights hanging in small trees and embedded in the shrubbery. The striking pair sat at a cozy round table, complete with white tablecloth , candles, and red wine.

The first thing that crossed his mind was how beautiful Buffy looked. She was wearing a black strapless cocktail dress, which showed off her smooth, tanned skin, and her long hair had sun streaks in it almost as blonde as his. She still took his breath away. The second thing that crossed his mind was that he wanted to kill The Immortal for the way he too was looking at her. He tried not to notice just how handsome the man was. All dark hair, swarthy complexion, expensive suit, blinding white teeth. It was enough to make a bloke sick to the stomach. The long-ago rage he'd felt when discovering Dru and Darla, blissed out over the man's sexual prowess, came back with a vengeance. _There'll be no sexual bliss for Buffy tonight,_ he thought. _Well, at least not with the bloody Immortal. _

The couple were not far from him, but he had to hone in his enhanced hearing to listen to them over the chattering surrounding them. It wasn't too difficult, since they seemed to be the only ones not speaking Italian. Buffy seemed totally enraptured with every word that left Damian Giordano's mouth. He was talking about some trip he'd made on the French Riviera in his yacht—the braggart—his accent lending an exotic air to everything he was saying. Then Spike noticed his hand. _The bastard's hand was on top of Buffy's hand. And she was allowing it—hell, she looked to be __**enjoying**__ it._

It took all his self control not to jump the bushes then and there. But he reigned himself in, trying to keep his eye on the prize and put his plan into motion. Just then, a waiter noticed his odd behavior, spying on the patrons, ducking suspiciously behind the shrubbery. He spouted off a string of accusatory Italian, which Spike ignored. He pointed toward Buffy and Giordano.

"Moglie," he said angrily. _Wife._ The waiter followed the direction of Spike's finger, nodding in complete understanding. He patted Spike on the back conspiratorially, mumbling sounds of sympathy before leaving him to continue his surveillance. Buffy was sipping her wine, alternately taking delicate bites of her salad. He remembered her low tolerance for alcohol, and he wondered how many it would take before she would be drunk enough for the ponce to accost her. He wasn't about to let that happen.

_Okay, on to the next phase. _He dragged himself away to walk back to the street, his eyes scanning the curb for Giordano's limo. It wasn't hard to find, though it was parked in the relative privacy between two large trees. He remembered the license plate from when he'd nearly chased after it the day before. Leaning rather unprofessionally against the side of the car, the driver smoked a cigarette, looking very bored and uncomfortable in his close-fitting gray uniform and cap. _Child's play,_ Spike concluded, taking out a smoke of his own before walking casually toward the driver.

"Gotta light, mate?" Spike asked him.

"Si," he replied, reaching into his pocket for a familiar Zippo. Too bad his own beloved lighter hadn't survived the Hellmouth. He held it out, and Spike took it, lighting his own cigarette with exaggerated gratitude. He inhaled deeply before handing the lighter back.

"Thanks. I was about to go mad. I'm tryin' ta quit, and this is ma last one of the day." He leaned against the limo companionably, both men sharing some smoke time. He looked at the limo, then back at the driver.

"So, must be someone important in there."

"Si. Don Giordano," he replied, his accent heavy. "I drive for him, but he takes so long at these places. And this is a new uh—how you say—_conquest_, so this could take all night."

"Conquest, eh?" Spike tried hard not to inject anger in what should have been polite conversation with a stranger.

"Si. The man is a god with the women." He gestured with his cigarette. "Never I see a man so smooth, so _perfetto_. He treats them like a goddess, and they give him blow jobs in the back seat. Is truly _incredibile_ to watch." He realized how that sounded. "Not that I watch," he amended, flushing. Spike made a show of looking through the open driver's side window.

"Nice car. Very posh. It's so big though—is it hard to drive?" Spike took one more puff, then put out the cigarette with the toe of his boot.

"No. No. Is like making love to a very tall woman. Everything is in the same place, you just got to reach farther to get her going, eh?" They laughed together.

Spike began walking around to the back of the car where the tree partially secluded them, as if in deep admiration. The driver followed helpfully, pointing out the chrome hubcaps, extolling the finer points of the interior. Beneath the low hanging tree, Spike made his move, putting his hand up to the guy's shoulder in a friendly gesture, before looking around. No one seemed to be paying any attention to them, which is why no one noticed when Spike brought the driver's head forcefully forward, banging his head on the trunk of the car. He was out like a light. He held him up to keep him from slumping to the ground, and dragged him to the side of limo, opening the door and pushing him inside. Spike joined him, making quick work of taking off the man's uniform and removing his own clothes, thankful for the dark tint of the windows.

Once dressed as a limo driver, Spike stepped out of the car, looking carefully before quickly wrapping the unconscious driver in his duster, then opening the trunk with the stolen keys. He quickly deposited him inside, tossing his own clothes in on top of him. As an afterthought, he took the Zippo from the driver's uniform pocket and slipped it into his duster pocket, before softly shutting the hatch. He nodded and smiled to a passing couple, who werer holding hands and enjoying the evening. Spike got into the driver's side, pulling his cap down lower over his forehead. He put the key into the ignition, hunkering down in the seat to wait.

Buffy couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed an evening more. Damian was so charming, so interesting. He'd been around thousands of years, so he had an endless supply of stories and historical name-dropping. She found him to be extraordinarily fascinating. The wine and delicious pasta were making her feel so relaxed and happy. But it was Damian's soft brown eyes that held her attention the most. They would sparkle and shine with laughter one minute, passion the next. His voice washed over her like the warm waves of the sea, and she felt herself drowning in it, feelings she never knew she had overwhelming her at his sexy tone. His hand gently caressed hers, and he leaned in closer to her.

Their dessert arrived, crème filled cannoli that he fed to her, laughing softly as he reached out to wipe cream from the corner of her mouth. As if unbidden, her tongue slipped out to lick the tip of his finger, and she watched with a shiver as his eyes darkened with lust. _Oh my,_ Buffy thought. _He is going to be so good in the sack. _The thought came to her mind as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"So," Damian was saying, "I hear you have a new guest at your villa." She looked at him blankly.

"He goes by the name of Spike," he prompted. Buffy felt like she should know this, but nothing was coming to mind.

"Spike…" she echoed. "Oh! Oh yes. He used to be a vampire. He's not anymore though. He's staying with us at the villa, but for the life of me, I don't remember why."

"He _used_ to be a vampire?" Damian said in surprise. "Hmm…interesting." Abruptly, he dropped the topic, and turned the full force of his charm onto the extremely receptive blonde.

Spike was growing very impatient. He'd turned on the radio, but the strange sound of Italian pop music, or, even worse, _opera_, pelted his ears and his nerves, so he flicked the radio back off in frustration. He'd been sitting there an hour, and he told himself he'd give them five more minutes before Plan B became Plan C, and he staged a coup on Romeo's. He was about to reach for the door handle, when he spied them heading for the limo. Buffy didn't look drunk exactly, but he certainly didn't like how she clung to Giordano's arm and leaned into him, looking up adoringly into his eyes at whatever the tosser was saying.

They arrived at the car door facing the sidewalk, and he saw Giordano looking around expectantly, no doubt wondering why his driver wasn't outside at once to open the door for them. Spike was in a quandary. He couldn't get out of the car because he'd run the risk of both of them recognizing him. Even worse, Buffy would be royally pissed. He pulled his cap down even lower over his eyes, trying to pretend he'd fallen asleep. A spate of angry Italian and a pounding on the window made him jump in surprise.

"Shit," Spike muttered to himself. It was the minor details he'd overlooked that always seemed to come back and bite him in the ass.

Chapter 5

Spike didn't get out of the limo; he merely unlocked the door and kept his mouth shut, ignoring The Immortal's angry outburst. Giordano opened the back door and politely helped Buffy inside, before climbing in himself. He pulled the heavy door shut and rolled down the glass partition between the front seat and the back. Spike looked straight ahead. It was then that he realized another problem with Plan B: he didn't speak Italian. Oh, he knew a few words and phrases to get by in public, but once several sentences were strewn together, he was completely lost. Which was how he was feeling as Giordano continued to lambast him. He did manage to pick out words that questioned his parentage and another phrase he thought meant "drive through the park." Which led him to see the third problem with his plan: he didn't know his way around Rome.

He hadn't been there since the 1950's, and he hadn't owned a car then. Walking the side streets and alleys at night didn't make him too familiar with the more public streets, and things had changed since then. This is why he'd taken a taxi to the restaurant.

Giordano finished his diatribe and rolled back the partition. It was completely opaque, and would have been totally sound-proof to the human ear. But Spike could hear their soft laughter and talking, the clinking of glasses and popping of champagne. Resigned to his predicament, Spike pulled out into traffic.

He drove down the street and happened to see a sign pointing to what he remembered was a public park, Villa Borghese. He turned in and drove slowly through the tree-lined drive, one ear attuned to the activity behind him. It seemed fairly innocent until suddenly Spike heard a few familiar sighs and moans that could only be coming from the mouth of his Slayer. Sounds he had only heard when they were—he slammed on the brakes and got out of the limo.

The back door was locked, of course, which didn't stop Spike from pulling the damn thing from off its hinges and throwing it behind him in a burst of superhuman adrenalin. He vaguely heard the door slam into something metal and slide down a hill as he stood in the now open doorway and stared in shock. Buffy lay prone on the long seat, her strapless dress pulled down to expose her beautiful breasts. Giordano was lying on top of her, mouth agape comically at the sudden interruption. Spike literally felt his vision go red with rage.

"Get your bloody mitts off my woman!" Spike roared, before reaching in to pull him off Buffy with both hands. Giordano met a similar fate as the limo door had a moment before, slamming into a distant light pole with a satisfying thud. Spike shuddered at Buffy's surprised scream, but he reached in to pull up the top of her dress, trying to avoid her punches and kicks as she fought against what she perceived as an intruder.

"It's me, Buffy!" He reassured her, believing she was having a drunk reaction. "Stop your damned fighting. It's me—bloody hell—quit! Dammit!" She'd gotten in a good sock to his nose, and he reeled back in pain. "What the fuck's wrong with you?"

By this time, Giordano had returned. He surveyed the damage to his limo dispassionately, his lips forming a smug smile as he watched the battle ensuing between Buffy and Spike. His calming voice reached her ears.

"Buffy, amore mio. Calm down. He won't hurt you." As if a switch had been turned off, Buffy immediately quit her struggle and her green eyes focused on Giordano. Spike turned at Giordano's only slightly disheveled form, he himself breathing hard with anger and exertion.

"What have you done to her?" he growled, fists clenched as he got out of the limo.

"Well, well, well. William the Bloody, is it? It has been a long time. Funny how the world works, eh? Once again, what was yours, is now mine. And it is doubly rich, because from what I understand, this fair lady once also belonged to Angelus. Very funny indeed." He laughed softly to himself at the irony.

As tempted as Spike was to attack him, he knew it would do no good. The Immortal was, by definition, un-killable. Not only that, nothing and no one could hurt him in any way. And the man wouldn't even fight—Spike knew this from personal experience. He would stand there and allow himself to be pummeled, stabbed, and even burned, but he was totally invincible. He didn't even feel pain. A freak of nature in more ways than one. And now this freak had Buffy.

"I'm takin' her," said Spike softly, "You're a lover, not a fighter, as I recall, so you won't do bugger all about it."

"I won't need to. You can have her for now. She's mine whenever I want her." He held out his hands for the keys to the limo.

"Not bloody likely," said Spike and threw the keys as far as he could deeper into the park. But he wasn't just talking about the keys. He reached back into the car and pulled the now-compliant Buffy out. Her eyes never left The Immortal, and she reached out to him, but he ignored her.

Spike's dramatic exit was quashed when he realized he'd left his duster in the trunk with the driver. He went back to the limo, opened the driver's side door, and pressed the button that opened the trunk. He held Buffy's hand firmly in his, nearly dragging her along with him. It was almost like she was drunk, but he knew better now. She was in a trance of some kind, and it was like his worst nightmare come true. She didn't seem to recognize him, and the realization felt like he'd been punched in the gut. As nonchalantly as he could, he removed the driver's coat and exchanged it for his own, not bothering to take the rest of his stuff. The driver emitted a low moan, so Spike left the trunk open. It must be his soul acting up, because in his past life, he wouldn't have cared. In fact, the driver would have been dead, two perfect puncture marks in his neck. Times sure had changed, he thought, shaking his head.

The whole time, Giordano just watched in amusement, and Spike could feel the anger building in him again. All he wanted to do was get Buffy the hell away from him, and thankfully she allowed him to pull her by the hand, but her head was turned to gaze at The Immortal until he was enveloped in the trees and darkness. Then came the whining.

"Where's Damian?" Buffy began to ask this over and over, the enthralled version of "are we there yet?" By the time they reached the main boulevard, Spike was wishing mightily for a muzzle. She turned her ankle on one high-heel, and the heel broke off. She stumbled, but Spike caught her, lifting her up in his arms and carrying her like a rag doll. He managed to flag down a taxi and gave the address of the villa. Mercifully, Buffy passed out during the drive.

Spike paid the cab driver and carried Buffy up the front steps of the villa, digging the keys from his coat pocket before awkwardly letting them in. No one else was home, and Spike remembered that Giles was going to take the potentials out patrolling in a cemetery an hour's drive away. Dawn must have tagged along, for she didn't come running when he called and the music wasn't blasting from her room as usual. So no one was there to witness Buffy in the state she was in. Giles wasn't there to find some spell that would reverse whatever thrall she was under. Her care was totally up to him. He wasn't used to that being the case. It was a little scary.

He carried her unconscious form up to the room they shared, laying her on the bed. He shook her gently. "Buffy? Luv, you awake?" She moaned a little, and it sounded painfully like she'd said "Damian" again. He sighed, running his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth before her. He thought of calling the Watcher, but knew he'd only be met with annoyance that he was overreacting. He'd just say she'd had too much to drink; let her sleep it off.

"But we know better, don't we Buffy," he murmured, "the bastard has you totally pole axed, and nothin' either of us can do 'bout it." He looked at the clock by the bed. It was after ten, and he was exhausted, both mentally and physically. He took off his coat and black t-shirt, then his boots, and finally the gray slacks from the limo driver, tossing the whole lot on a chair. He took off Buffy's dress and pulled the covers back, then slipped into bed with her. She may as well have been dead, so still was she, but he could hear the gently pounding of her heart, and the soft, regular breathing he was only now getting used to having next to him in the night. He inched closer to her, spooning her body to his, nuzzling the fragrant spot at the crook of her neck. The nights of worry had finally caught up with him, and he drifted into sleep minutes after he closed his eyes.

Buffy awoke to the pleasantly warm feeling of Spike's arms wrapped around her, her head resting on his chest, the comforting yet still surprising beat of his heart beneath her ear. Her first thought was that she must have drunk too much wine, because she couldn't recall much past that first drink Damian had plied her with. She had the sensation in the back of her mind that it had been a nice enough evening, and the food and drink were wonderful. The more she thought about it however, the fuzzier things seemed. She was never good with alcohol, and that Italian stuff could be pretty strong. It was a little scary not remembering how she'd gotten back to the villa. She realized she was only in her panties, and wondered if Spike had had to remove her dress for her.

_What he must think of me. I've probably just added more fuel to his jealousy, coming home drunk like that._

He must have felt her shift, for suddenly his arms tightened around her and his eyes flew open, anxiously looking into hers.

"Buffy?" he said tentatively, a slight tremble in his voice. She couldn't help but smile at his boyish appearance, hair a riotous mess of curls, eyes wide and questioning.

"Were you expecting some other girl in your bed?" She literally saw the relief wash over his face, and he pulled her to him even tighter, his hand going to her own messy hair. She let him hold her a minute, feeling his need for reassurance, though not fully understanding it. She gently pulled away a little to look at him.

"Hey, what's wrong? Sorry I seemed to have come home drunk. You know me and alcohol. Wine good. Wine strong. I lucked out in the hangover department though. The bed's not even spinning."

"What do you remember?" he asked, and she saw he was holding his breath. She laughed nervously.

"Not much, I'm afraid. We went to dinner, the food was good. I assume the wine was too, obviously. The rest of the evening is a blank. Did you undress me?"

"Yeah…you were pretty out of it." Spike's mind was spinning. She was herself again, and had no memory of all the night's crazy events. But his own memory was crystal clear, and the thought of that asshole with his mouth on her—his eyes squeezed tightly shut at the pain of it. So, he could tell her what happened, but what would be the point? Would she even believe him? He knew she'd be mad he'd followed her. No harm was done after all, except to Spike's peace of mind. And Giordano's limo. Another thought occurred to him. The Immortal would not be giving up, he was sure. He hadn't gotten all that he wanted from Buffy, and now that he knew Spike was with her, the idea of shagging his girl was likely too much for the bastard to resist. All he could do now was try to keep him away from her.

He opened his eyes, noting how concerned she was at his odd behavior. "So, you're end of the deal with Giordano is over, yeah? You went out with him. You fulfilled your obligation, right?"

"Yeah, that was the deal. Though I still feel in debt to him…"

"No! Promise me that's the end of it. Promise you won't see him again. Let me help you find some other way. I'll get a job. I'll—"

Her fingers moved up to his lips, silencing him. "Spike. I will always be grateful to Damian for funding our operation here. But I don't intend to see him again…not in that way. Quit being so jealous. I'm yours, and only yours. I want only you." Her voice dropped with emotion. "I _love_ only you. I thought you believed me at last, that when I told you at the Hellmouth, I wasn't just saying the words. Where is all this insecurity coming from? He can't compete with you for my heart. You know that, right?"

He looked into her eyes, and yes, he believed her. Right here, right now, she was his, and only his. He just had to figure out a way to stop The Bloody Immortal from taking her away from him.

"Of course I believe you, pet. You _are_ mine. Nothing is going to come between us again; I'll see to it till ma dyin' breath."

"Then kiss me good-morning already, will ya?"

Spike was more than happy to comply, and their passionate kisses turned into a passionate joining that shook him to his soul. As he moved within her, he knew he was trying to imprint himself on her body, embed himself so deeply inside of her that there was no way she'd ever be able to get him out of her system. He hoped and prayed his love would be able to inoculate her against what he knew would be more anxious days ahead. As they both cried out their release together, he could almost believe it.

TBC

Chapter 6

The day was going so well that Spike could almost forget about the horrific night before. Buffy had certainly forgotten, especially when he'd made love to her again in the shower. It wasn't Damian Giordano's name she was crying out then. Everything seemed back to normal. Dawn had gone off to school. Spike and Buffy had spent a few hours training the potentials physically, and now, Giles was training their minds in demonology, ancient weaponry, and the _Slayer's Handbook_. Yes, everything was going along swimmingly. Then the flowers began arriving.

Six dozen roses of varying pastel shades, from lavender to apricot, filled every available space in the entry way and front living area. The potentials exclaimed over each arrival, inhaling the delicate flowers and praising the romantic gesture. None of the bouquets had cards, so they assumed they were from Spike to Buffy. He stood at the foot of the stairs in quiet rage, as Buffy too got into the spirit of the other girls and added to their praises. She looked around and saw him there, silently watching, his face unreadable. She nearly ran over to him and slammed into him with a fierce hug, raining kisses on his face and thanking him profusely. In her excitement, she didn't realize right away that he wasn't hugging her back or returning her kisses.

"What is it?" She asked finally.

"They're not from me, pet," he said softly. Her surprise made her speechless a moment.

"Not from you? Then who—" Then it dawned on her, and she looked back at the roses in shame.

"Sorry I didn't think of it myself," he was saying dully. "Very classy, I'll give him that."

She reached down to squeeze his hand. "I was only excited when I thought they were from you. I don't need flowers from you, Spike. That's why I was just so surprised…I mean, this isn't like you. I don't know why I didn't see that right away."

"It's okay, luv. Not one for the over the top gestures, you know that. Still, he obviously enjoyed your company last night." He wasn't going to betray how her comments about his lack of romantic overtures hurt him to the core. It was true. He wasn't much of a gift-giver. He'd given her flowers once when her mother had died, and tried to give her chocolates when she was driving him mad, but he was ashamed he'd done nothing else for her. He guessed he'd known she would have refused him in the past, so fear of rejection had kept him from that. Well, he had no excuses now, and he vowed to rectify that soon. But that didn't solve the problem of now. The Immortal was playing dirty, and he'd have to step up his game if he was ever going to defeat him.

"I'm actually a little pissed off at him for this," Buffy was saying. "He knows I'm with you. Our date was just a friendly one. I don't think I gave him any encouragement."

Spike laughed sardonically, eyes on the girls as they flitted from flower to flower like butterflies. Every so often they would look over at Spike and Buffy, whispering and giggling over what might have prompted the huge display.

"Sweetheart, a man would only have to look into those gorgeous green peepers of yours to feel encouraged. Don't blame yourself for this. Believe me, it was all him."

"Okay. But I'm sending them back."

"Don't bother, luv. He'll just send more. Let the birds wallow in the romance of the moment. Maybe I'll score some points with them."

The knock at the door startled them all, and Buffy walked over to answer it, fully expecting more flowers. She hadn't expected Damian Giordano to be standing at her doorstep, yet another bouquet in hand. These roses were red. Spike knew full well what that color represented. His heart picked up, fear tingling along his spine. Giordano was smiling and looking deeply into her eyes, and Spike felt himself move to stand beside her at the door, taking her hand protectively.

"Damian," said Buffy formally. "Please, come in." Spike felt her squeeze his hand in reassurance. She didn't seem to be succumbing to his charms, so he must not be turning it on. He relaxed a little, but was still on his guard. Buffy gestured for one of the potentials to take the newest addition to join the other flowers, and suddenly all eyes were on the trio near the door. Things just got even more interesting.

"You remember Spike, I'm sure, "Buffy said, not hiding that she knew their history. Giordano smiled in delight.

"Naturally. We go way back. It's been a long time." He held out his hand, which Spike shook reluctantly, noting the infuriating twinkle in his eye when Spike squeezed his hand much harder than necessary. Of course, he felt no pain; only humor, apparently.

"Giordano. Yes, a very long time." The bastard wasn't giving him away. Everything was a game to him.

"Thank you for the flowers," Buffy began, "but they're too much, really. You've already done so much for us…"

"Think nothing of it. I enjoyed our evening. Just a small token of my affections. I also come with another invitation."

"Damian—" Buffy was about to object, but he politely ignored her.

"This isn't just for you, amore mio. This is for all of the household." He raised his voice to include the girls who had been eavesdropping anyway. "You are all invited to join me for a day on my yacht. It's more than big enough to accommodate everyone, and I'm sure the lovely young ladies would love a break from their training. A day on the water would be just the thing, don't you think?"

The girls, of course, squealed in delight, imagining living _Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous _for a day. They looked to Buffy expectantly. She was looking at Spike. He avoided her gaze, seeing that she had no idea how her fate was in the decision she was about to make.

"Oh, please, Buffy," came the chorus from the living room. "We've been working so hard."

Spike caught Giordano's eye in resignation. The guy was good. He risked a glance at Buffy. He felt his heart drop to his stomach the moment he knew she would accept. He knew what she was thinking. They would be surrounded by chaperones. Spike was apparently invited as well. The girls _had_ been working hard and deserved a break. How could she deny them this? They'd think she was an old scrooge if she did. What harm could it do? Drawn by the sound of the commotion, Giles joined them in the foyer. The Watcher shook hands vigorously with The Immortal.

_Wonderful. Here comes the final nail in my coffin, _thought Spike.

Giordano extended his invitation to Giles, who put his personal stamp of approval on the idea, no doubt secretly wanting to encourage the courtship. Giles saw the writing on the wall. He knew Spike must be inwardly squirming at this, and he relished it.

"Why not," said Buffy at last, not meeting Spike's eyes. The girls erupted in excitement, and Giordano basked in the glow of his success.

"Fantastico! We will leave at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Wear your bathing suits, and leave the rest to me." He moved to kiss Buffy on both cheeks, who flushed becomingly in embarrassment. With a nod to the others, and a smirk directed at Spike, Giordano made his grand exit. The girls ran chattering up the stairs discussing what they would wear and what the next day might hold. Sensing the tension in the air, Giles made some lame excuse and left Buffy and Spike to the fallout.

Spike almost fell onto the third step, feeling overcome with anger, fear, and sadness. But mostly, he felt helpless. Buffy sat beside him, reaching up to lift his head so she could look into his eyes.

"This is for the girls, Spike. Not for me. You get that, right?"

"Right, luv. I do. Don't worry about me. I'm fine with it." She knew he was lying through his teeth, but the last thing she wanted was another argument about The Immortal and his motives. Spike was jealous, and he just had to learn to trust her. To trust their relationship. Maybe this little trip, where he could see her innocent interaction with Damian, would reassure him and put all his fears to rest.

"Won't it be nice to have a day away?" She enthused, trying to get him to cheer up and look on the bright side.

"Sure, pet. You all deserve to have some fun. And I'll be there to see that you do." The pleased light in her eyes at his words made him feel only slightly better about things. He knew he was so whipped he'd do anything to make her happy, but he still wasn't going to sit idly by and watch The Immortal take her away from him. He knew however, that this problem was now beyond his capacity, but that there was one other person in the world that would understand the situation. One other man who had the resources to help him fight Giordano. So, as Buffy kissed him softly on the lips and headed out on some errand, Spike walked to the phone in the kitchen. He opened the address book that sat beside it to the first page, marked _A._

Spike dreaded making this call nearly as much as he dreaded going on that yacht cruise the next day. But he could think of no other options. So, with a resigned sigh, he picked up the phone and dialed. A familiar, girlish voice answered on the first ring.

"Wolfram and Hart. Angel's office. May I help you?"  
"Hello, Harm," said Spike.

There was a beat, then: "Spike!" He held the phone away from his ear. "I can't believe you're calling me!"

"Well, not exactly, pet—"

"I'm mad at you, by the way. You left without saying goodbye."

"Well, I didn't think you wanted to see me again."

"Not if you're still with the Slayer, you traitor."

"Listen," Spike began impatiently. "I'm not a vampire anymore, Harm, so there's no longer a conflict of interest here. So could ya please just put me through to your boss?"

"He's in a meeting."

"Well, tell him this is an emergency involving Buffy. He'll talk to me."

"Fine. Hey, Spike," she said coquettishly, "next time you're in LA…"  
"You'll be the first one I call, luv," he finished. Of course, the next time he set foot in that place, Hell would be in the deep freeze. A minute later, Angel's familiar gruff voice came on the line.

"This had better be good, Spike."

"Would I be callin' you if it wasn't? Believe me, you're literally the last person I'm callin' for this, Liam."

"Get to the point. Harmony said it's about Buffy. What's going on? Is she okay?"

"She's fine at the moment. But you'll never guess whose attemptin' to get his hooks and whatever else he can into Buffy-- The Immortal."

"What? You're supposed to be protecting her. I never would have let her go if I knew—"

"Like you had a bleedin' say in the matter. Look, the bastard is fundin' their whole operation here, and Buffy feels in debt to the guy. She went out with him last night and I couldn't do anythin' about it. I stopped their date before he went too far. But he put her in some kind of thrall, just like what we thought he'd done with Dru and Darla, remember? But it's a little different with Buffy. She can't remember shit about it, even though when I caught up with them, her clothes were near off."

"Sonofabitch, Spike! Can't you do anything right? Hell, I'm coming out there."

"No! You think she'd listen to you any more than she did to me? I warned her about him. I warned her Watcher. They think I'm overreacting. That I'm just jealous—"

"Well, aren't you?"

"Naturally. If half of what Dru and Darla said about him was true…" He trailed off, and both men were remembering all The Immortal had put them through. "Listen, "Spike continued, "as much as it pains me to say this, you're the only one I know who understands what I'm goin' through here. Could you maybe get your people on this? And I mean fast. He's takin' us all out on his yacht tomorrow, and I'm already seasick just thinkin' 'bout it."

"Yeah, I'll get Wesley to start researching. And remember, Wolfram and Hart has offices in Rome, so they'll be at our disposal too. I'll call you as soon as I know something. Are you on a cell phone?"

"No, this is Buffy's villa. My phone was charging…"

Spike could clearly hear the exasperation in his voice. "I'll transfer you back to Harmony and you give her your cell number so we don't tip Buffy off. You better protect her until I can figure out something. If you get her killed, or worse, I'll kill you Spike, I swear to God…"

"Yeah, yeah. If the worst happens, I'll save you the trouble."

He waited while Angel transferred him back and dutifully gave Harmony his number. The conversation had gone pretty much how he'd predicted, but it was the first time he remembered having ever felt better after talking to Captain Forehead. He felt in his gut that he'd done the right thing by calling Angel, even at the expense of sounding weak to the man he'd hated for a hundred years. If Angel came through on this, Spike might have to reassess his feelings towards his former grandsire.

_Whoa, now. Don't be too hasty, William, _he amended to himself. He put the phone back in its cradle and headed to the Watcher's locked liquor cabinet. He picked the lock and poured himself a shot of Rupert's best single malt. He had a feeling it was going to be another sleepless night.

Chapter 7

The call came at four a.m. Spike had his cell phone on vibrate and had slept—or rather, dozed—with it under his pillow. Still, when it vibrated gently, he thought he might jump out of his skin. The Slayer stirred next to him, and he leaned over to kiss her bare shoulder, murmuring comforting words to get her to go back to sleep. He hastily pulled on his jeans and padded barefoot down the stairs, slipping quietly out onto the back patio so he wouldn't awaken anyone else in the house. It was quiet, save for the soft gurgling of a decorative fountain.

By then the phone had stopped buzzing, so he redialed . Angel's impatient voice gave a clipped greeting.

"Sorry. We were sleeping," Spike replied, unable to stop himself from tormenting Angel with the mental image of him and Buffy in bed. "Did you come up with anythin'?"

Spike grinned a little, as he could almost hear Angel grinding his teeth together. "You have two options. Neither one is gonna be easy."

"Naturally," Spike sighed, one hand pushing through his tangled curls.

"Option one: we open a portal into a dimension where he's no longer immortal. Then, you kill him."

"I'm likin' this option—"

"Well, option two is a little less dramatic. We put him in a state of stasis, where he can do nothing at all for a hundred years."

Spike mulled over the two plans, trying on the fly to work out the pros and cons of each. It was a daunting process. "Which one do you suggest, Liam?"

"Well, option one is certainly a more permanent solution. Option two is temporary, but as you guys won't be around in a hundred years, it would do the trick. The problem with that is you—or a witch from the Rome office—have to cast the spell in his presence. And someone else might be able to get the spell reversed."

"And the problems with option one?"

"You've seen enough portals to know how unpredictable they can be. You'd have to go with him, and run the risk of not being able to return, yourself. I personally am leaning toward that option."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Spike smirked. "But why would I have to go with him? Couldn't we just open the portal and pretend he no longer existed?"

"No," said Angel. "The portal will just reopen again in a few hours, and if he waits he can come right back through then. You'd have to make sure he didn't."

"Okay, I can see the risks with that, but I'm not likin' the stasis idea much either. I don't want to have to be constantly looking over ma shoulder, wonderin' if the wanker would be able to get out of it and come after us again. Tell me more about how we open that portal."

Spike listened as Angel spelled out the details, feeling good about what the end result would be, but a little unnerved at all the other dimension stuff. And Buffy wouldn't like either plan, he knew for certain. She hated others doing things behind her back "for her own good." Spike didn't much like that aspect either, but at this point, it couldn't be helped. He knew in his heart that he'd rather lose her to anger than have her sexually enslaved by The Immortal.

"We should have researched a plan like this long ago," Angel was saying. "Gotten rid of him back then so we wouldn't be going through it again now."

"Yeah, but back then we didn't have Watchers or Wesleys. And if we had, we'd have eaten them first, asked questions later."

"True," Angel agreed with a brief bark of laughter. "Someone from the Rome office will be in touch."

Spike hesitated, almost physically incapable of saying what he knew he owed his former grandsire. "Liam. Thanks. Not for me, but for Buffy."

"That's who I'm doing it for. And Spike…don't fuck this up. Call me when it's done."

"Right." The connection was broken, and Spike stood awhile, looking toward the west where he could see the gradual lightening of the sky. Not too long ago, that would have been his signal to seek shelter from incineration. But now, he reached into his pockets for his cigarettes and new Zippo, enjoying the view but preoccupied with what could go wrong. It's not like he hadn't died for Buffy before, but then, he felt he'd had nothing to lose. Buffy had cared about him, but he had been under the misconception that there was no future for them, that she would never love him as he loved her. This time, he knew what he'd be missing, so if he was damned to another dimension, or even cast out of her villa, Adam and Eve would have nothing over him in the banishment department. Buffy wasn't just his Eden, she was his Heaven, and he'd almost rather die again than to be without her now.

Spike took a deep pull of his cigarette before exhaling in a smoke-laden sigh. His phone vibrated in his hand, and he found himself talking to an ebullient Italian woman about the intricacies of opening portals into other dimensions.

The sun had barely come up before Spike heard the patio door slide softly open. He smiled at the sound, but didn't turn around, rewarded by the feel of his silk robe-clad Slayer hugging him from behind, her hands reaching around to caress his bare stomach. She kissed the nape of his neck, and the feel of her soft tongue there made him shiver with sudden desire. He flicked his third cigarette into the fountain and took one of her smooth hands in his.

"You're up early," she commented, her chin resting near his shoulder. "Not sleeping well lately, are you?"

"No. But it'll pass." He nodded toward the sunrise, lovely in shades of yellow and pink. "'Sides, I don't think I'll ever get used to watching the sun come up. I'd forgotten how beautiful it could be."

She moved around him to face him, to embrace him now from the front. She pulled back to look at his face, how the soft rays were highlighting those fabulous cheekbones, lightening his eyes from sapphire to crystal blue. "_You're _beautiful," she said simply, pressing her lips to his. "Like a fallen angel."

"Not a very manly comparison," he said, a little embarrassed at the expression, and not too keen on any comparison that recalled another "Angel."

Her hands were on his face now, tracing the sharp angles and full bottom lip. "Let me say again how much I appreciate you going along with Damian's boating idea. I know how you feel about him…"

He reached up to still her hands, bringing them down to their sides, lacing their fingers together. "I don't really think you do, luv. But that's neither here nor there. I'll go along for the ride, but I'm not gonna lie to you—_at least not about this, _he thought—I hate the son of a bitch, and I'm only goin' to watch out for you girls, make no mistake about it."

"Still," she persisted. "thanks anyway, no matter your motivation. And hey, it might even be fun to be out on the water in the sunshine. When was the last time you got to do that?"

He thought a moment. "In the sun? Never. I've travelled on boats and ships around the world, but only came out on deck at night. So yeah, I guess it will be a new experience at that."

She was quiet suddenly, resting her head on his chest, wrapping her strong arms around his waist, while he brought her in closer to his warmth, reveling in the fresh scent of her hair. All was right in Buffy's world, and she was loath to think there could be anything to ruin that feeling. It had been so long since she had been this happy and carefree. Everyone she loved was safe. She'd only recently gotten into the habit of pushing away negative thoughts, a state that, while unfamiliar, was now like a new addiction, even better than chocolate. She wasn't paying attention to niggling doubts or fears, even though she felt them coming off Spike in waves when she spoke of Damian Giordano with him. No, it was easier to think of him as just being silly, or flattering in his jealousy. Besides, if she could handle an apocalypse or three, surely she could handle an immortal Lothario and a jealous former vampire. She deserved to live in a state of bliss after all she'd been through the last seven years, didn't she?

As Spike swooped down to catch her lips with his, she breathed into his kiss, deepening it while the morning rays shone all around them. _Yeah,_ she thought contentedly, _I'm definitely deserving of this…_

At precisely ten o'clock, five sleek, black limousines arrived outside the villa. Normally, Giles would have driven the mini bus they had leased for such outings, but The Immortal obviously liked to do things in style. Spike just raised one eyebrow and got in the limo for the "grown-ups," which included Giordano, Buffy, Giles, and himself. Spike watched in silence as Giordano poured and passed around expensive champagne. The silence was awkward, and Spike's tension exacerbated it since he was keeping such a close eye on every glance or overture The Immortal made to Buffy. He also wondered if Giordano would mention their altercation the night before. So far, the evil bastard was doing a great job of playing innocent. It would seem it was in both their best interests to keep the matter their little secret. Still, Giordano couldn't resist getting in a few vengeful digs at Spike.

"So, William,"—he didn't miss Spike cringing at the name—" you have not been to Roma since the 1950's, si? I can understand that, given your unfortunate accommodations during that particular stay." Infuriated that he was bringing up ancient history to make him look bad in front of Buffy, he made a desperate effort to calm himself. Buffy and Giles were looking at him askance, however, so there was no way to avoid comment.

"Yeah, you managed quite a feat back then. Havin' me arrested for tax evasion so you could shag Dru again. I wasn't even a citizen of this bloody country! It's really a shame a good-lookin' bloke like you can't get a woman without resorting to trickery and magic." _Take that._

"Now, William, I never use magic. It is my charisma--a curse, I know. The women, they cannot seem to resist. You are a handsome man yourself. Surely you have had similar problems."

Spike snorted. "All my birds I get fair and square. You should try it some time." And he took Buffy's hand possessively. Buffy, uncomfortable and a little irritated with the conversation, tried lamely to change the subject.

"How big is your yacht, Damian?"

"As big as they come, signorina. As long and sleek as an obelisk. But you will have no trouble getting used to it, and I am sure it will fully accommodate your needs." The innuendo did not escape Buffy, but she just returned his polite smile. Had Spike said such a thing once upon a time, he'd have earned a punch in the nose.

"We will sail down the Tiber to the sea," continued Giordano in his most proper tour guide voice. " You will enjoy the many historical buildings and sights along the river. It is truly a magical cruise."

"I would be most interested in the ruins near the mouth of the river," injected Giles, sipping his champagne and thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Si, si. Belissimo. You will love it, I am sure." He turned to the Slayer, obviously bored with her Watcher. _At least we have that in common, _Spike thought, downing the last of his champagne. He wished he could get good and pissed, but the upcoming portal event prevented him from refilling his glass.

"Aside from William here, we have another friend in common. You know Angelus, am I right?"

Buffy hesitated, Angel being a very private matter to her. "Yes, I know Angel."

"I hear he now has a soul. How fortunate he will likely not be damned for eternity."

"I wouldn't count on that," mumbled Spike.

"And now," continued Giordano, ignoring Spike's remark, "he is fighting evil in Los Angeles. Much like we are fighting evil in Roma, si? Please tell him next time you speak to him that we should put the past behind us. Tell him he is most welcome in Italia any time. I promise I will not steal his women from him again." And he laughed good-naturedly. Buffy's answering smile seemed much more strained. _Hmmm…a chink in his shining armor, _thought Spike, almost gleefully.

Spike was about to comment on how The Immortal was trying to steal _his _woman, when their arrival at the harbor interrupted him. Docked near the parking lot in an extremely long slip, rested the yacht, _Innamorato. _It was as big and beautiful as promised. _Clearly the ponce is compensatin' for somethin', _thought Spike.

Spike snorted at the yacht's name. "Always wanted a cruise on the Love Boat." He was pleased when Buffy laughed.

He slid out of the limo, disregarding the proffered help from the driver, who fortunately for him was not a familiar face, and reached back inside to help Buffy out. She'd already gotten out on the other side, however, and Giordano held on to her hand triumphantly, proceeding to lead Buffy up the wooden ramp, Giles following. The limos carrying the girls arrived right behind them, and everything became chaotic as they got out of the cars and gathered before the gangplank leading to the yacht.

Giordano's constant narrative on the features of the boat and the historical aspects of the harbor was grating on Spike, but he could tell the man was impressing Rupert to no end. He could also tell Buffy was no more interested than Spike was. Spike sighed and waited at the bottom for Dawn to join them.

"Impressive, eh Niblet?"

Dawn looked up to where Giordano still held Buffy's hand. "Impressive what an asshole he is," Dawn whispered. Spike couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped him. The Summers women were always surprising him.

"Language, pet. What would your mum say?"

"She'd agree, Spike. You just gonna let him take her away from you like that?" He stopped her right in the middle of the ramp, while the others complained and then maneuvered around them. He tried not to sound angry, failed, and remembered that she didn't scare easily.

"Listen here, little girl," he hissed, " No one's takin' anythin' from me. That wanker will get what's comin' to him, you wait and see." He realized he'd nearly said too much, especially when she suddenly smiled knowingly. He let her pull her wrist away that he'd been gripping in his frustration.

"I knew you weren't gonna stand for this. Buffy can be so stupid sometimes. Now, how can I help?" It took a moment for the shock to wear off. Spike shook his head slowly, then looked around to be sure the potentials were all onboard.

"Whatever happens, you're to do nothin', you hear? Stay out of the way."

She grinned. "Whatever you say, Spike." He watched her long, coltish legs carry her on up into the yacht.

"Bloody hell," he cursed aloud, then made it to the top in one angry leap.

Chapter 8

It took about an hour to go the twenty miles down the River Tiber to the Tyrrhenian Sea. The poet in Spike admired the beautiful perspective of Rome from the water, but the warrior in him wanted to get on with the fight. The portal could be opened once they reached the open sea, using a few mystical words that were the equivalent of "open sesame." The difficult part would be opening it with an audience, so timing was of the essence, as were Spike's acting skills. There were so many variables to consider that he vacillated between going through with it and calling the whole bloody thing off. But one look at the Slayer, laughing at one of The Immortal's lame jokes, and Spike became instantly committed to the idea.

The potentials were certainly enjoying themselves, what with the sun, the luxury of the yacht, and the antipasto tray the crewmen set before them on the upper deck near the spa. Spike didn't want to deny them this small reward for their hard work, which was why he'd relented. Giles stayed in the shade at one end of the middle deck, sipping expensive scotch and occasionally referring to the guide book he'd brought, the git. Buffy , Giordano and Spike sat at the other end, joined by a watchful Dawn, who helpfully ran interference for Spike by injecting her girlish opinions and asking pointless questions of Giordano about the scenery. Occasionally, she would wink at him. Spike would just shake his head slightly and smirk at her.

Spike knew he was being unusually quiet, and Buffy would glance at him worriedly, but he would give her a semblance of his wicked smile, and she would go back to her conversation with The Immortal. She seemed captivated by the man, but not like the night when she'd forgotten Spike's name. Spike assumed Giordano was biding his time, not wanting to tip anyone off to his intentions by obviously mesmerizing her, but using just enough of his charm to keep her interest. Those chinks in his armor Buffy had detected earlier seemed to have disappeared completely, Spike realized, his heart sinking. But that only reinforced his desire to be rid of the menace once and for all.

They entered the sea and motored out about two miles off shore, where the yacht dropped anchor. The girls who wanted to were invited to dive off the yacht and swim in the warm sea. There were some takers, who were not afraid of sharks, who teased the others about the irony of wanting to fight demons with teeth but not big fish.

The adults and Dawn stayed aboard, watching the potentials' antics with amusement. Spike rose quietly to his feet. It was time to make his move. He drew The Immortal to the railing, away from Buffy and Dawn.

"Giordano, you do much fishin' from this thing?" he ventured.

The Immortal looked surprised. "Si, William. I have fishing poles onboard. You want to catch a fish for our supper?"

"Sure. If you're up to makin' it a little more interestin'. How 'bout a wager?" Spike was counting on the man's overblown ego and desire to impress Buffy to get him right where he wanted him.

The Immortal's handsome face broke into a wide smile. "Whoever lands the biggest fish, si? And what do I get when I win?"

"Another date with Buffy. Alone."

"You are willing to put up your greatest treasure against the fates? But tell me, in the impossible event that you might win, what do you ask of me?"

"You get out of her life for good. Withdraw your funding, and stay the hell away from all of us."

He considered this a moment. "You know I don't need a wager to take her away from you. Just a few minutes alone, and she'd be putty in my hands. You know this, yet you suggest this ridiculous wager."

"Whatever you may be, Giordano, you are a man of your word. If you take this bet, I'll believe you won't renege on it. This is my last sportin' chance, I realize this, as do you. But if you are so unsure of your fishing abilities…."

He laughed, fully aware he was being baited, and enjoying the irony. But Giordano had difficulty resisting a bet on a sure thing, and what Spike was unaware of, was Giordano's ability to charm the fish from the very sea. Yes, this would be a great story he could tell for ages hence, once he had Buffy in his bed.

"Very well, William. Very well." He proffered his hand to seal the deal, which Spike gladly shook. Buffy noticed the two men and the determined handshake they'd exchanged. She joined Spike at the railing as Giordano excused himself, saying something about fishing gear.

"What was that all about?" she asked Spike, admiring how his white hair shone and tousled about in the sun and wind.

"I challenged Giordano to a fishing contest."

"Are you sure you didn't say 'pissing contest'?" She was leaning against him, his arm encircling her waist as they listened to the distant sound of laughing girls and the gentle lapping of the water against the boat.

"Very funny, Slayer. I'll have you know I'm an excellent fisherman."

"You're kidding." Her green eyes were wide and amused.

"I have a wealth of abilities you have yet to plunder, luv." And he twisted his tongue in that sexy way that had her heart pounding.

"Hmmm…you been holding out on me?," she asked, reaching up to kiss him while she had the chance.

"Gotta save some secrets," he murmured against her lips, before deepening the kiss. Giordano's polite throat clearing interrupted them, and they turned from the rail to see Giordano standing nearby, two heavy fishing poles and a tackle box in hand. Spike took the obviously longer pole, and Buffy laughed.

"I guess there's no need to measure poles now, is there" she whispered in Spike's ear in passing, following Giordano up the stairs to the top level.

"Not even a question luv," said Spike good-naturedly. He waited a moment for Dawn to catch up to them, wanting to stick by Spike and be in on things when she could. He stopped her before she mounted the stairs.

"When I signal you, distract her," Spike whispered. Dawn nodded, happy he was taking her up on her offer.

They went to the quieter end of the upper deck, away from the laughing and splashing potentials, an easy fete on the two- hundred-foot yacht. Spike sat through Giordano's suggestions, despite the fact that he had gone deep sea fishing many times, albeit in the dark, but the Immortal was conceited enough to enjoy showing Spike a thing or two, even if it was just about fishing. The two men had settled into their seats, lines cast, when Spike nodded to Dawn.

He watched out of the corner of his eye while Dawn exclaimed at something another girl was doing, and dragged Buffy by the hand to the other end of the boat. Giordano had swiveled his chair away from Spike's, concentrating on catching the biggest fish for Buffy's benefit. _Now or never, _Spike thought. He said the magic words under his breath.

Almost immediately, Spike saw the swirling opening to the portal, but instead of in the air, as he was accustomed to seeing portal openings, he saw to his dismay that the opening was in the sea, churning the water into a little whirlpool. Wasting no more time, he set down the fishing pole and motioned to The Immortal.

"Whatever can that be?" he asked, faking excitement. When Giordano leaned over for a better look, Spike pushed him over the railing. He watched him fall into the portal and disappear. He looked around, but no one else seemed to notice it. It lacked a lot of the sparkly lights and sucking noise your run of the mill portal usually had. He felt the fear nearly freeze him at the spot, but the thought of the zombie-like expression Buffy had after her date with The Immortal flashed in his mind, literally launching him into action.

"Well, bollocks," he muttered. He took a deep breath and jumped in, following The Immortal into what he hoped wasn't a watery grave.

Dawn looked back to where Spike and Giordano had been fishing, just in time to see Spike jump overboard. Having no idea of Spike's plans, she couldn't help her reaction when she saw him disappear, fully clothed, over the side.

"Spike! Man overboard!"

Buffy turned to look, running to the side of the yacht past the now empty chairs. She could see a swirling hole in the sea, and past experience made her immediately identify it as some sort of portal.

"He jumped in there?" asked Buffy.

"I guess so! I saw him go over the side!"

Buffy turned to Dawn. "Stay here. I'm going after him."

"But Buffy—" she started. But before she could grab her arm to stop her, the Slayer dove cleanly into the portal. Dawn watched in dismay as it closed up behind her, and she was looking once again at the calm, blue sea. She remembered the day Buffy had jumped to her death through another portal, to save _her._ Once more, she hadn't even hesitated to sacrifice herself for someone else she loved. Dawn stood a moment in shock, then her wits returned and she yelled at the top of her lungs:

"Giles! Help!"

Chapter 9

The cold sensation of water dripping on his face awakened Spike, and for a moment, he couldn't remember where he was. _I have to tell Buffy there's a leak in the ceiling, _thought his dulled brain. But then a splash went up his nose and he sat up, instantly awake. His eyes were greeted with the deep green dampness of a tropical rain forest, and he looked up to see that the water was coming from giant leaves dripping after a recent rain. The sun came down in dappled patterns, diffused through the trees that reached impossibly high above him, and the air was filled with strange birdcalls and the eerie sounds of unknown beasts.

` He'd successfully made it to another dimension apparently, and he got to his feet, looking around the dense undergrowth for signs of The Immortal. Cautiously, Spike reached into his boot, where he'd shoved a switchblade—the only weapon he could have hidden from the Slayer's perceptive gaze. He remembered that morning when she'd laughed at him for wearing boots for a boat trip, but of course he'd had ulterior motives, and he'd allowed her to believe he was a hopeless fashion victim. So now, knife in hand, he stood up with the intention of finding Giordano and slitting his throat, then waiting for the portal to reopen in a few hours. _This plan might actually work for once, _he thought with satisfaction. But first he had to find Giordano. He couldn't have gone far. Then he heard a familiar moan. His head whipped around to the sound, and he felt his heart drop to his stomach with a resounding thud.

To Spike's horror, there lay Buffy to his left, sitting up and rubbing her head dazedly. _Bloody hell. _She saw him, and abruptly snapped out of it. "Spike?"

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Can someone please give me a fuckin' break! _His inner voice raged.

He stood immobile, unable to even move his feet to go and help her up. His mind was racing, and he watched as if from a vast distance as Buffy nearly ran to him, hugging him with her strong arms. "Spike! What the hell happened? Why did you follow Damian through the portal? And where the hell are we?"

He had no truthful answers to any of these questions, but was saved for the moment from outright lies when the sound of rustling foliage alerted them that something big was moving nearby. Spike figured it was Giordano, and drew Buffy closer to his side as they backed up beneath a tree to better observe what was crashing through the jungle. But what greeted them was not Damian Giordano; it was a humanoid creature with death-gray skin, mottled brown spots on its forehead and neck. Angry red eyes scanned the area, as if searching for its prey, and long, sharp fangs hung menacingly over its bottom lip.

"Well this guy's not too pretty," Buffy whispered.

"Yeah, and doesn't look to be a kindly gent." Spike flicked open the switchblade. Buffy's eyes widened appreciably.

"Is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?"

Spike smiled devilishly. "Always, pet. So, shall we let the bugger come to us, or take him by surprise now?" But the decision was taken out of their hands when the demon caught sight or scent of them, and its blazing eyes zeroed in on them with angry purpose. With a wolf-like growl, it ran the ten yards distance, throwing itself at Spike before he knew what hit him. The knife flew out of his hand and the two wrestled on the jungle floor a moment, while Buffy jumped on the creature's back. It was a crazy three-way tussle, each of them having their turn rolling on the ground in a tangled heap of flailing punches, kicks, and dangerous teeth. Buffy finally disentangled herself, and while Spike and the demon put death grips on each other's necks, she managed to pull the monster off Spike and throw it against the trunk of a nearby tree. Dazed by the impact, it slumped to the ground.

Buffy held her hand out to Spike, who took it gleefully—he always relished a good fight—despite the blood pouring from one nostril and the fang marks that had torn into his white t-shirt and drawn blood from his shoulder. Buffy grimaced as he wiped the blood from his nose on the back of one hand.

"Well, that was fun," said Spike. "Now we—" He looked over to where the demon had lain, but nothing was there. He nodded toward the tree. "Mr. tall, dark, and scary made a run for it."

"Huh," said Buffy. "That was weird. He took his beating and ran. Not very sporty of him. You didn't even get to use your switchbladey thing on him or anything." Spike laughed, suddenly scanning the ground for said weapon, shrugging when he couldn't find it.

"So, how do we get out of here? I hope Giles can figure out where we went and how to get us back." At Spike's strange silence, Buffy looked at him more closely. "You still didn't tell me why you and Damian jumped through the portal. What's goin' on here, Spike?" She knew him too well, knew when he was lying, knew when he was up to something. He sighed in resignation, looking her dead in the eye.

"I'm the one who opened the portal, luv." He watched her mind work by the array of emotions crossing her face, and braced himself for impact.

"You were trying to get rid of Damian, weren't you?"

"Buffy, let me explain—"

"I can't believe you! We've been over this and over this, Spike. You've got to learn to trust me, or this is never going to work."

"Trust you? Bloody hell, Buffy, I trust you with my life! It's you who needs to start trustin' me for a change. Somethin' had to be done to that bastard or he was going to take you away, enthrall you, and make you into his sex slave. Then, mark my words, it would have been the niblet next, then those potentials, one at a time."

"You're nuts, Spike. Certifiable. I've been alone with Damian many times, several before you were back here, before I knew you were alive. He's done nothing to me. I don't want anyone else but you and—dammit! I'm sick and tired of this argument!" She turned away from him in frustration, and he watched her back rising and falling with her anger. He put his hands on her upper arms, gently turning her back to face him.

"Tell me, what do you remember from your date with Giordano the other night? You remember seein' me? You remember fightin' me when you didn't know who I was? You remember the lovefest with him in the back of the limo? You remember him with his hands on those beautiful breasts of yours that were made only for me? Because I bloody well do. I was there, Buffy. He had you so twisted 'round that you didn't know your own name, let alone mine. You were completely under his spell, and I--" his breath hitched at his sudden emotion—"I couldn't get through to you, pet. It was like you were lost to me." His voice lowered to a strained whisper, his hands holding her arms almost too tightly. "Almost like when you jumped off that scaffold and I watched you die…"

Buffy's eyes widened at his impassioned words, at the eyes that had gone a watery blue as he pleaded with her. Spike saw in her face the moment when everything seemed to click into place. Did she finally believe him? It occurred to him that maybe she hadn't believed him before because The Immortal had been surreptitiously influencing her. And now, in this dimension where Giordano's powers were diluted, she was finally able to think more clearly. _Yeah, that had to be it._

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked him, reaching up to touch his cheek. His hand covered hers.

"You wouldn't have believed me. You were too close to the situation—too close to him. Too worried about financing the cause. I was threatening that, I realize. But I'm tellin' you the truth, Buffy. He's dangerous. He has an agenda. I might not have much of a life if you weren't in it, but I would have died for sure if you forgot my name forever."

Her eyes now tearing too, she pulled him into a hug, kissing his throat, his smooth cheeks, his lips, whispering apologies and love words, once again under Spike's own particular thrall. And he was kissing her back, wanting nothing more than to take her on the wet ground, the rich smell of the earth and the rain surrounding them. But they weren't safe here, what with that demon still at large. His hands in her hair, he leaned back to look in her face. "As much as I'm cravin' a make-up tumble, we need to look alive, luv. We're not alone here."

She smiled softly up at him, her eyes glazed with desire. _This is the kind of spell I want her to be under, _he thought happily. She pulled reluctantly from his embrace, but took his hand so as not to completely break the connection.

"So, tell me, what was your plan here? I can see now that I must have been a giant wrench in the works." He laughed in agreement.

"That you are. Well, the plan was to take The Immortal to a dimension where he was well, _mortal,_ and put him out of my misery. That portal is supposed to open in an hour or three, and I'd go back through and swim back to you, claimin' Giordano was lost at sea. And it all would it worked if it hadn't been for you, my meddlin' kid…" She was looking at him skeptically again.

"Please don't think I'm doubting your planning abilities, but did you come with up this idea all on your own?" He seemed genuinely offended.

"Hey! You don't think brilliance such as that coulda come from my bean? Had you not come after me, I'd be dancin' on his corpse by now. If I had found him, that is…" Buffy raised a brow in disbelief. He was caught again.

"Alright, alright. I had a little help. From Captain Forehead himself. And Wolfram and Hart, Italia."

"Angel," she all but growled. "Why don't the two of you just hook up, because it's like you're already sharing one brain."

Spike didn't know what to be pissed off about first.

"I'm no poofter, luv, and for once he and I were of a mind, it's true. I hate to say it, but he's the only one I knew who would completely understand what I was goin' through. Plus, he has the resources to help me out." Spike looked around the rain forest they were standing in, allowing the loudness of the birds and animals to overwhelm him a moment. "I'm not exactly feeling particularly grateful to him at the moment, however."

Buffy sighed at their situation, at the absurdity of arguing in the middle of a jungle dimension with a killer demon on the loose. "Okay, we'll table that discussion for now. So, you say the portal should open again at any time. Obviously, we need to stay in this area. But what about Damian? I'm sure you're happy enough to just leave him here."

Spike shrugged. "I was gonna leave him here dead, but leavin' him to the fates and that spotted demon works for me too. The reopening of the portal is a one-time deal. If he doesn't show up when the portal opens, any objections to leavin' without him? I mean, you believe he's dangerous and all now, right?"

"Yes, Spike. Since we can't risk missing our exit to look for him, I guess that's all we can do."

They let the loud birdcalls fill the silence between them. Spike saw a downed tree and drew her to it with him so they could sit and wait. They were about to sit when Spike heard the slightest rustling of the undergrowth. His eyes scanned the area, all senses on alert for the return of the demon. Without further warning, he heard the _swoosh_ of the switchblade and felt the white-hot sting as it embedded in his chest to the hilt. He actually felt it puncture his lung and knick his heart, his breath flowing out of his body all at once. As he fell to his knees, two thoughts occurred to him: One: _I could really die from this now. _And two: _Why would a demon be wearing Gucci deck shoes? _

Then everything went black.

Chapter 10

Giles stood by Dawn, and a few potentials who had come to join them at Dawn's first excited yell. Members of Giordano's crew stood by anxiously, each carrying a life preserver at the ready. They all looked into the deep blue of the sea, the water so clear that fish were visible near the surface, and even the distant sandy bottom glimmered faintly in the sun. But there was no sign of Buffy. Or Spike. Or The Immortal.

"You're sure it was a portal?" asked Giles for the third time.

"Yes! Buffy and I both saw it swirling in the water. She thought Spike and Damian had fallen in so she jumped to save them." Just then, Dawn felt something bump and slide near her sandaled foot. She glanced down and saw that it was a cell phone, so she picked it up, flipping it open to try to identify the owner. As beaten up as it was, she knew it had to be Spike's. He was always dropping it because he consistently left it in his pocket when he was training, or accidentally knocking it off counters and onto the marble floors of the villa.

"Look," she said to Giles, "it's Spike's phone. He has five missed calls." She pressed a button to retrieve the numbers, and saw they were all from "The Poofter." She laughed before handing Giles the phone. "They're all from Angel, apparently."

"Why on earth would Angel be calling Spike? They're not exactly on friendly terms." He noticed Dawn looking away a little guiltily. "Do you know something about all this, Dawn?"

"No. I mean, I know Spike had something planned to get back at Damian," she whispered, mindful of Giordano's crew, "but I didn't know exactly what until I saw Spike go overboard after him. I assume it was part of the plan. Maybe you should call Angel back…"

"Quite," said Giles who was already doing just that. It only took one ring before the LA vampire picked up on the other end.

"Spike, this had better be good news, or I'm on the next plane to Rome."

"Angel, it's not Spike. Rupert Giles here. It would seem your plan with Spike has gone awry."

There was silence a moment, then Angel's voice went deadly quiet. "What happened? Is Buffy alright?"

"I honestly have no idea. I think it best you fill me in on the details of your plan so I can figure out how to rescue them all."

"Them? Dammit, I knew I couldn't trust that dumbass with the simplest idea! What has he done?" Giles told Angel all he knew, listening to the occasional expletive as the significance of the error began to sink in. In turn, Angel outlined the plan for killing The Immortal, giving Giles his turn to lambast both Spike and Angel for their reckless behavior.

"I get it Giles, I do. But all of this could have been avoided had you called me and checked out what we know about The Immortal using Wolfram and Hart's database before you involved Buffy and the others with him. Since both the Watcher's Council and Sunnydale were destroyed, you must be very limited on resources now. I know I'm not your favorite person, but I do have a great deal of information at my disposal. Seems reckless of you not to utilize that."

Giles had to bite his tongue pretty hard to keep himself from responding to that. In fact, since Angelus tortured him and killed Jenny Calendar, Angel was not the first one to come to mind when he needed trustworthy information. "Well, unfortunately we don't have the time to debate who's at fault here. What's the incantation to re-open this portal?"

"It won't do you any good to say the words," replied Angel. "It's set up like a timer, a one-time only thing for that part of the world. You have up to three hours from the time it opened before it will reopen in the same place. If Spike and Buffy aren't at the portal in the other dimension, it closes for good."

Giles sighed in frustration. "This is the most ridiculous, ill-conceived idea I've ever heard. So there's no helping them? We just wait and hope for the best?"

"I'm sorry, Giles. I wish I had better news. You know how I feel about Buffy, which is why I thought disposing of The Immortal was worth the risk. She wasn't supposed to jump in after them. Impulsiveness has always been one of her weaknesses."

"Yes, and Spike's too, unfortunately." There was another awkward silence, then Angel steeled himself for his next bombshell.

"Giles, I've got some more bad news. I've been calling Spike all day, but either he's been ignoring my calls or the idiot had it on silent. I hate to tell you this, but Wesley found some additional information about The Immortal that we didn't know when we first devised this plan. Seems the dimension I sent them to is The Immortal's home dimension. He is mortal there, as we suspected, but his physical powers are stronger. He'll also go back to his original form. We believe he came to our dimension for eternal life and other abilities he didn't have in his home world, like shape-shifting and mind control."

"So Buffy and Spike have no idea what they'll be confronting now. And do you know what The Immortal's 'original form' is in that dimension?"

"Yeah. He's a demon."

* * *

Buffy could hear the demon advancing on them as she desperately tried to help Spike. She'd quickly gotten over her shock and regained her senses enough to lay him flat on his back. She grabbed hold of the switchblade by the hilt, and, taking a deep breath, pulled on it as hard as she could. It slid out fairly easily, and she could hear Spike's breath rattle and gurgle through the hole in his lung. She prayed his healing powers would kick in before he died from lack of oxygen. She turned on the demon, switchblade at the ready.

"Listen, Mr. Ugly," she said, "I've about had it with you. Let's quit beatin' around the uh…jungle tree things, and finish this." She happened to look down and notice what Spike had earlier. "Hey…nice… shoes?"

At her words, the demon pulled up short, looking at her in a confused way, then down at his own feet. He tilted his head as if to say, "Huh?" Then it did say something. Something that sounded oddly like "_Buffy," _only much rougher and well, more demon-like. Buffy was usually pretty good at adding up clues—okay, until recently, that is.

"Damian?" she asked tentatively. "Is that you in there?"

"Grrrrr…"

"Is that a yes?"

But the strange conversation was interrupted by two other sounds occurring simultaneously. First, she heard Spike coming to with a moan, then, the portal suddenly appeared in the sky just beyond where the demon/Damian was standing. She risked a glance at Spike, thankful that his superhealing was finally working.

"Spike! The portal is opening again. Can you get up?"

"What? Yeah. Yeah. Let's get the fuck out of here. I feel like I'm balls deep in _Deliverance." _He was on his feet at once, clutching his heart instinctively, relieved to no longer feel the painful pressure of the blade. The Gucci-clad demon was still in their way, however, though somehow frozen in place. Having sized up the situation immediately, Spike wasted no time in sauntering up to the demon and putting all his power into a punch that left him sprawling. "Let's go, luv." He indicated the portal with a gallant hand. "Ladies first." Buffy looked hesitantly at Damian. Despite all he had done to them, she hated for it to end this way. He might have been trying to get into her pants, but he _had _supported their operation when no one else would.

"Buffy…" Spike prompted urgently, noting her hesitation.

"Oh. Right." With one last regretful glance at Damian Giordano, she jumped. Spike followed right behind her.

Their re-entry was a little wetter than their earlier exit. Though the sea was warm as bath water, it was still a little disorienting to be on land one minute, then under water the next. He swam up toward the sunlight, breaking the surface with a gasp. The Slayer was right beside him, holding on to a life preserver. The one intended for Spike knocked him in the head.

"Ow!" He looked up at the yacht, where Dawn was standing at the railing, laughing with relief. "Thanks, I guess," he mumbled. He ignored the preserver and swam the short distance to the yacht, watching in appreciation as Buffy climbed up the ladder just ahead of him. He could clearly see the outline of her thong through the wet, white Capri pants she wore, and a vision of a make-up shag flashed in his head. He grinned to himself. Perhaps his plan was going to work out after all.

Once on deck, Dawn hugged their wet bodies, excitedly recounting their trying hour and a half of fear and worry, while clucking with concern at Spike's bloodstained t-shirt. The potentials expressed their happiness that they were safely back, as Giles looked on, a disapproving expression on his newly-tanned face. A crewmember handed them towels, and Spike wiped his face and hair, preparing for the set-down the Watcher was sure to give him. He wasn't disappointed.

"Of all the reckless, idiotic plans I've ever heard of—"

"Spare me, Rupert. Had you been doin' your job, I wouldn't have had to take such extreme measures. And I'm gettin' bloody well tired of you second-guessin' me all the time. You're not _my _watcher, ya arrogant prick, and God knows you've not been much a one to Buffy in years. So take your high and mighty opinion and shove it up your arse, you poncey… wanker—" Spike threw down the wet towel for emphasis. Their audience was mesmerized.

"Now, see here—" began Giles, taking a step toward him. Buffy was immediately between them, a hand on each of their chests, pushing them apart.

"Okay, guys, stop it! If anyone is to blame here, it's me." That got their attention.

"How you figure that, luv?"asked Spike, palms still itching to take a long overdue swing at Giles.

"Buffy, no—"

"I fell for the tricks of The Immortal. I thought I'd learned my lesson with Dracula, but apparently I'm still highly susceptible to a sexy accent on top of thralling powers. Oh, and a little cash was more than enough to keep me that way, I'm ashamed to admit. So let's just try to get past this and chalk it up to lessons finally learned, okay?"

Neither man seemed willing to give an inch. "Okay?" She said again, looking them both in the eye menacingly. They nodded once and walked away to lick their wounds on opposite sides of the deck. Buffy watched them go with a sigh, indicating with a wave of her hands that the girls disperse; it was pretty crowded up there. She noticed one of the crewmembers seemingly anxious to speak with her, but reluctant to interfere in the strange drama unfolding around them.

"Scusi, Signorina," he said in his heavy accent. "Where is Don Giordano?"

Buffy looked back to where the portal had once been. "Lost at sea, I'm afraid. Fell overboard and drowned, despite attempts to save him. Lots of witnesses here who'll testify to that," she said meaningfully. Her guess was right that the man didn't want to be in the middle of a murder investigation.

"Si, signorina. I understand your meaning."

"Good. Maybe it's best you take us back to Rome now, what do ya say?"

"Si. We'll start right away."

Buffy looked over at Giles, still pouting by the railing, then at Spike, who was sitting in his previously vacated fishing chair, emptying his boots of water. She walked over and sat beside him. He looked up at her.

"You okay?" she asked, nodding toward his chest.

"Yeah, kitten. Been in worse scrapes, as you well know. But I'm not gonna apologize for what I said to Rupert. Meant every word, and every word needed to be said."

Buffy held up her hands. "I'm not arguing with you. But don't forget to blame me too in this. I'm feeling a little embarrassed at my part. But mainly, I'm ashamed of not listening to you, of blaming your jealousy for why you seemed to be going crazy."

Spike chuckled softly, his eyes going soft as he looked at her. "Oh, I was crazy, luv, don't doubt that. Had to be to call Liam for advice, yeah? But it's worth it all to get you away from the bleedin' Immortal, to get you to see that I wasn't exaggeratin'. And now we know what he really is, that he's capable of even more than I feared, I'm just grateful the bastard's gone."

She reached over to touch his cheek. "You forgive me then?" she whispered.

A semblance of his old cocky leer animated his face. "I'll find a few ways you can make it up to me. Starting with a shower. What do ya say, pet?" He left his boots to dry in the sun. "You think this tub's got a fancy stateroom somewhere?"

She took his hand and kissed his full lips, enjoying the shiver of need that passed through them both. "Let's find out."

A/N: Still more to come….please stay tuned!

Chapter 11

Spike came to the delicious conclusion that revenge was best served making love to Buffy in The Immortal's own bed. After the wondrous shower sex, in which they learned the benefits of multiple jets and removable shower heads, they continued to christen the yacht by moving to the giant round bed and with its champagne colored silk sheets and matching mile-high down comforter. He watched Buffy move above him, riding him to a fever pitch, her perfect breasts undulating as she rotated her hips around him in just the right way, damp golden hair occasionally tickling his thighs as she leaned back. The gentle motion of the boat added to the sensual experience, and Spike reached up to encircle her waist, then tongued each rosy nipple in turn, grinning against her skin when she moaned her approval.

He sat up, adjusting their positions so they were face-to-face, their mouths joining in imitation of their lower connection. He swallowed her cries as she came, contracting Slayer muscles bringing him quickly after. He collapsed on top of her, gathering her close, unable to move apart as their hearts pounded and their breaths came in gasps.

"Oh God," huffed Buffy into his neck, her hands running slowly up and down his muscled back. "That was…" she searched incoherently for the right word.

"Exquisite?" ventured Spike, his mouth at her ear. "Inspirational? Bloody brilliant?" She nodded and shivered once, then sought out his mouth again, lazily nibbling on his lower lip. After a few moments their eyes met and they smiled at each other, which quickly turned into carefree laughter at their ironic location. Spike pulled away from her reluctantly and lay on his back, staring up at the low, ornate ceiling in sheer bliss, his hand intertwined with Buffy's.

"Much as I love the poetic justice of being here, I can't wait to be back to our own bed, with things back to normal. Maybe I can get some sleep tonight."

"Whatever normal is for us," Buffy replied, snuggling up to his naked side. "You know, when you were a vampire, it was like waking the dead to snap you out of a deep sleep. I used to throw things at you and you didn't budge."

"It _was_ waking the dead, pet," he said affectionately, laughing at her choice of words. He kissed the hair at her temple.

"Yeah, I see now where they get that expression. In any event, you don't have to worry about me anymore, so I expect you to sleep deeply and without interruption. That's an order."

"It is, is it? Someone's awfully bossy. I shouldn't let you be on top so often."

When Buffy didn't respond with one of her usual snappy come-backs, Spike knew she was thinking about serious matters again. Just when he'd been so hopeful that now The Immortal was gone, they could forget their troubles. Buffy had told him Giordano's contribution was automatically deposited, so maybe that would continue and they wouldn't have to worry about money. Something told him that she wasn't going to be content accepting that things were going to be alright.

"You know, something was really weird about Damian in that other dimension, aside from the fact he was a demon and all. He seemed genuinely shocked at what he was, like he hadn't expected it. He tried to communicate with me, but I didn't speak spotted monster-ese."

Spike sighed in exasperation. "Now don't tell me you're feelin' sorry for him. Ya ask me, he got off easy, just havin' to stay in his home dimension. He's probably already back in the bosom of his family, literally bumpin' uglies with the nearest female, wreakin' bleedin' havoc so long as it's in any dimension but this one."

"You're probably right," she conceded, trying to forget about her concerns for the man who tried to seduce her away from Spike, and the demon inside that tried to kill him. Any lingering doubts she resolutely pushed aside in favor of the beauty of the man before her. She reached up to kiss his throat, one hand idly tracing the ridges of his perfectly formed stomach, one leg thrown over his hard thigh. He turned his head to look at her, that seductive gleam in his eye going along with the burgeoning length of him pressed against her.

"You're kidding me. Again? Already?"

"What can I say, baby? All part of the superman uh…package."

He spent the rest of the voyage home showing her just what he meant by that.

**Four Months Later…**

Carnevale Romano. Rome's original version of Mardi Gras. The craziness had hit Rome in anticipation of Lent, and Buffy and the potentials knew this would be an opportune occasion for vampires and other demons to blend in with the crowds and accost innocent victims. Also, Spike said New Orleans during Mardi Gras had been one of his favorite places once upon a time, tourists and drunks being easy pickins, with little attention paid to screams in the night. And so to fit in with the Romans, they all dressed for the festival in sixteenth century brocades and headdresses, some in masks, some even in motley in order to blend in and patrol. Each girl had weapons within the folds of her costume, and Buffy cautioned that while they could have fun, this was also a work night, so they must keep alert and lay off the booze.

Buffy looked like a Shakespearean maiden, her hair pulled back with a gold caplet, then cascading down her back in honey-toned ringlets. Her dress had a tight bodice that ended just past her waist in a _v_, deep red with gold trim, but she wore her favorite heavy boots beneath should she need to attack or defend in comfort. She was secretly glad of the heavy gown, as the night was February cold. Her mask matched her gown, with the striking addition of purple feathers attached to the upper corners. She batted her eyes flirtatiously at Spike, who occasionally stared in awe at her mysterious beauty. But she couldn't help doing some staring of her own. She remembered their conversation early in front of the long mirror in their bedroom…

Through much coaxing, Spike had finally acquiesced to wearing the costume she'd chosen for him. He wore a dark blue brocade doublet over a snow-white shirt, whose sleeves billowed out like a pirate's. Upon his head was a dashing slouched cap with a pheasant feather, covering the white curls Buffy insisted he left free of gel. He'd drawn the line at wearing a mask, balloon breeches and tights, so instead he wore navy blue slacks and his favorite black Doc Martins.

"I look like a bloody Nancy-boy," said the very masculine ex-vampire, unaware that his outfit only enhanced said masculinity.

"On the contrary," said Buffy, adjusting his collar as she stood behind him, admiring in the mirror how the blue of his jacket exactly matched his eyes. "period costume becomes you. Makes you look very sexy."

"Yeah? Sexy enough we could stay home and enjoy the run of the house while the birds do our patrolin' for us?" He turned away from their reflection and pulled her into his arms. She smiled as he nuzzled her ear, his hands moving to her breasts. Her hands reached up to cover his, stilling their enticing movements.

"Tempting," she breathed, "but this is a good training night for them, yet maybe a little too dangerous for them to be unsupervised. And with Giles in Cleveland…"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it." He let her go to finish getting ready. "But later, luv, you'll have a chance to make it up to me, won't you?"

She laughed, putting on her mask. "Okay. And I'll even leave the mask on," she promised as she watched his eyes smolder in anticipation. He began advancing on her again, but she flirtatiously evaded him and went out of the room and down the stairs, Spike close behind her. Had the potentials not been gathered in the foyer, Spike might very well have coerced her to go back upstairs. Instead, the young women admired each other's costumes and dipped into the open weapons box, preparing to descend upon the madness of Rome during Carnival…

Now, an hour into their patrol, the girls had split up into pairs, Dawn having met up with friends and leaving Buffy and Spike to their own devices. Buffy nonchalantly scanned the crowd, gripping Spike's hot hand as they waded through the press of boisterous humanity. It was difficult to say the least to catch scent or sensation of a demon over the smells and sounds of the excited people, but suddenly both Spike and Buffy noticed two vampires seeking to divide and conquer a bevy of teenagers who were watching a juggler in the square. Through eye signals alone, Buffy and Spike agreed to do some of their own dividing and conquering.

Spike took off after the vampire wearing black and white motley, and Buffy went for the vamp dressed ironically in a red satin-lined cloak that would have made Dracula proud. Wooden stake hidden within the sleeve of her gown, Buffy advanced on the vamp, allowing him to see her so that he would lead them away from the crowds in a vain attempt to try to escape the Slayer. He led her on a merry chase, but she caught up with him in a dark alley, far from the music and noise. He turned to confront her, speaking softly as if to a scared rabbit, in a language that Buffy thought might have been Slavic.

"I really wish you demon-types would speak English. It's so much less satisfying for me without the pre-staking banter." When she didn't understand his reply, she shrugged in disappointment and moved in to attack.

Buffy found her way back through the crush to the place in the square where she and Spike had first separated. She scanned the area, noting her potentials in various casual stances throughout the area, pleased at their watchful expressions. She listened to the troubadour who had replaced the juggler, brushing the vampire dust from her dress as she waited for Spike to rejoin her. She wasn't quite worried yet, but she didn't feel completely at ease until she saw his now hatless blonde head bobbing toward her through the sea of color. He was moving as if still in pursuit, and she felt her adrenaline kick in anew at the thought of another chase. He caught sight of her and paused.

"He double-backed on me," Spike told her, eyes darting through the crowd. "I think he headed toward that big house over there." He nodded toward an ancient looking palazzo with a courtyard surrounded by an ornate rot-iron fence. "Did you see him? He should have gone right past you."

Buffy shook her head, continuing on by his side. "No. I just got here. I must have just missed him. May as well check out the mansion." Before they got to the fence, Buffy saw Dawn nearby, busy eating some sort of cake and laughing with her friends. Their eyes met, and Buffy nodded to her in reassurance. She felt better knowing her sister was out of trouble for the moment.

They looked around before opening the squeaky gate, but no one seemed to see or care that they were breaking and entering into private property. The front door was locked, but Spike saw a stone stairway to the side of the house, leading down to what must be the basement. The door at the bottom of the steps stood slightly ajar. They looked at each other and went down the steps, Buffy's hand clenching her stake. Inside the door were more stairs leading down, and Spike lifted a torch from a rusted metal wall sconce and lit it with his Zippo. The light illuminated damp stone walls and stairs that continued down into the darkness. It looked to Buffy like the perfect location for a vampire's lair.

Perhaps a hundred steps later, and they hit a plateau where steps turned into corridor and the space widened. Water dripped from the ceiling, and the white veins of niter stretched creepily over the ceiling and walls. Away farther in, and they were at once surrounded on both sides of the passageway by shelves carved into the walls. Upon these shelves were the bones of the dead; they'd stumbled upon some family's tomb.

"I've read about this," Spike said, wrinkling his nose at the smell of old, damp decay. "Some wealthy families buried their dead beneath their houses. Lots of catacombs throughout Italy just like this." He moved the torch to illuminate what seemed to be names and dates of the departed carved into their stone graves. Rags that must have once been the clothing of the privileged barely covered their bones now, and any jewelry they might have had, had long since been stolen.

"Who'd want to live over a graveyard," asked Buffy with a shiver. "You smelling that vamp anywhere close?" She could no longer sense a vampire at all.

Spike sniffed the air. "I think he went this way. Vamps don't need light, you know. Likely he's got a nest farther down the passageway. You want to go on, or are you too creeped out and cold?"

"Yeah, let's keep going. I'm so amped up, the cold's not bothering me. And actually, it feels warmer down here than outside."

"Alright then." Buffy took his hand and found it to be surprisingly cool, but he squeezed hers and gave her an encouraging nod. They moved deeper into the catacombs, the pathway apparently grading downward slightly. Spike seemed unusually quiet, and in the eeriness of the catacombs she missed his amusing chatter. Abruptly, a huge iron door seemed to suddenly rise in their path, and Spike moved the torch closer to illuminate it. He reached out and pushed, and it opened on screeching hinges. Spike indicated that she precede him, and Buffy entered a small room that, by the look of the manacles chained to the walls, must have been at one time used as the house dungeon. Bones piled haphazardly in the corner of the room seemed to confirm her suspicion.

"We're at a dead end--literally," she said in disappointment. She noted there was no sign anyone had been living in the cell for some time. "He must have gone around the house instead of down here."

"Must have," concurred Spike dispassionately, uncharacteristically not angry at having lost his prey. He hung the torch in a sconce on the wall similar to the one he'd taken it from earlier. She met his eyes in the flickering light, but rather than soften with love as they usually did upon looking at her, they seemed to burn with an internal fire that she knew meant only one thing. She realized he was backing her slowly against the damp wall and when she felt it against her back, he stood only inches from her, his hands rising to caress her shoulders and run up and down her satin-covered sleeves. His dark blue eyes held her and she felt mesmerized, her breathing quickening as his lips lowered to hers.

She was immediately caught up in the passion of his mouth, and though something seemed a little different about the way he was kissing her, she surrendered to him without hesitation, moaning as one cool hand reached inside her bodice to fondle her breast, while the other began raising her gown and slipping inside the waistband of her panties, pulling them down with a swiftness that made her gasp.

In the back of her mind she wondered at her complacency in making love in the dank dungeon, at the subtle differences of his scent and in his touch. But none of it seemed to matter as she heard the hasty unzipping of his trousers and felt him impale her to the hilt with his hard body before pulling out and plunging back in with more force than finesse. But it all felt good and exciting, and her passion heightened when he spread her arms out wide against the stone, pausing in his thrusts to manacle both her wrists to the wall. Bondage had never been part of their sexplay, but Buffy was starting to reevaluate that notion as Spike continued to ravage her, tearing off her panties so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

Moments later she reached her peak, her heart pounding against her chest as she cried out. Spike continued pumping into her until he too roared his release, his face contorted in ecstasy, glistening in the flickering light with cold sweat.

"Amore mio," he breathed in perfect Italian. "That was everything I hoped it would be." Buffy opened her eyes, gasping as she was now looking into eyes the color of dark chocolate. Instead of her love, _her Spike_, she realized in horror that she'd just had sex with The Immortal, Damian Giordano.

A/N: Okay, so I blatantly stole from my favorite Edgar Allen Poe story, _The Cask of Amontillado._ So sue me—I'm having fun in my plagiarism. And please don't be too worried about poor Buffy. Sometimes, all is not what it appears…

Chapter 12

_Thirty minutes earlier…_

Spike followed the motley-clad vamp through the crowd, giving up saying "scusi" after he'd bumped into the hundredth person. _I'm bloody well tryin' to save their lives, seems to me they should be thankin' _me_ stead a givin' me dirty looks. _ He didn't bother picking up the damnable hat when someone had jostled it off, and it was swallowed up into the crush in his wake.

Spike had lost sight of him for a minute, so had to engage his nose in the hunt, though this particular vampire's smell was a little off. He'd reached a side road that was rounded off like a cul de sac, and obviously the end of the road for the parade they'd had earlier. Multicolored floats decorated with flowers and plaster figures were parked and abandoned in jumbled rows, and Spike wondered briefly how they'd ever be disentangled later. He knew the vamp must have come here. Tall old buildings surrounded the cul de sac, so if the vamp had escaped him, he either had gone up, or was hiding somewhere amongst the jetsam. He began looking under the flat bed trailers that held the floats, but saw nothing, straining his nose to pick up a whiff. It was sound rather than smell that gave the vamp away.

Spike turned around at the minute creaking of a nearby float, and was confronted with the giant paper mache figure of a black and white harlequin clown, belled hat and all. In either a strange bit of irony or a calculated risk, the vampire had chosen this particular float as his hiding place. The rest of the float was crowded with oversized flowers and piles of cheap beaded necklaces that hadn't been thrown to the people along the parade route. Spike smiled in triumph, hopping easily onto the platform. He pulled out his stake from his doublet, treading softly toward the sound.

"Come to Spike, you bloody coward," he murmured to himself.

So it was that Spike was completely taken off guard as he felt the sudden multiple strikes of the darts that peppered his chest and legs. He kept coming toward the vamp after the darts had all been fired, trying not to let the pain and debilitating poison slow him down. Whoever or whatever this vamp was, he'd somehow known it would take more than simple bullets to bring him down. Spike lost the battle and fell, cursing, at the vampire's feet. His last coherent thoughts were of Buffy. _She's gonna kill me for losin' that soddin' hat._

From out of the shadow of his giant twin, the vampire emerged to survey his handiwork. He wished he'd thought to leave a machete near where he'd hidden the dart gun, then he could have ended it once and for all. But getting blood on the man's costume wouldn't help him convince his next target that he was, in fact, Spike. As it was, the tiny holes the darts made might be somewhat noticeable if he wasn't careful when he began pulling them out.

It was very tempting to do away with Spike, but this stage of his revenge would have to wait; Buffy would come looking for her mate, and he didn't want to be found out just yet. His plan had been carefully conceived, and so far everything had worked perfectly. By now he imagined she had killed the vampire he'd sent her chasing—his instructions to him had been to lead her away from the square and evade her. Sadly, the poor creature wouldn't realize that the Slayer was the woman on his trail until it was much too late.

Spike was suitably unconscious when the vampire began gingerly pulling out the darts, then removing his costume. He zipped himself out of his own suit, hastily trading with Spike, down even to his boots, which he found to his annoyance were a little tight. He looked away in disgust at the now naked man, who lowered himself to going about in public without underwear. _How barbaric. _

Because it amused him, the vampire re-dressed Spike in the harlequin costume, thinking how Spike had always resembled a clown to him in so many ways. He pushed the lifeless body into a darkened corner of the float, and jumped down, heading back to the square. He'd gone only a little way before he remembered the last part of the disguise. With a shrug of his shoulders, the vampire suddenly shifted shape to become that of Spike, former William the Bloody, unrelenting pain in his ass. With a small smile, The Immortal melted again into the rabble.

****************

The familiar brown eyes regarded Buffy smugly; apparently The Immortal had no regrets for what he had done to her. He smoothed back his ruffled, now brown hair. Buffy closed her eyes to block out his face, then opened them again slowly. In that brief period of the darkness behind her eyelids, the world had drastically changed.

No longer was she manacled to the wall. No longer were her skirts up around her waist. She touched her hips with her free hand, feeling the lines of her panties, intact, beneath her gown. She could feel no evidence between her legs that she had even had sex. _What the hell?_

She looked around to see that she was still in the old dungeon, but Damian Giordano was leaning casually against the wall opposite her, arms crossed in relaxed fashion, eyes glittering darkly in the dank room. And he was smiling sexily at her.

"Damian," she murmured. "What just happened? I thought--"

"Was it good for you, signorina? By your moaning, you seemed to enjoy it."

"You were in my head. Manipulating me. Making me think you were Spike. Making me believe you'd—"

She realized she must be in shock, because she couldn't seem to get the words out. She shook her head violently, trying to erase the intrusion. That seemed to help somewhat, because she was suddenly very angry. He continued smiling, seemingly unconcerned, and stood up straight, readjusting his doublet. Buffy noted absently how she much preferred Spike's costume on Spike. _Spike!_

"Where's Spike?" she demanded. "What have you done with him? And how the hell did you get here?"

"Nothing that he would not have done to me." Well, that didn't sound good. "As for your second question, I simply followed you both out of my godforsaken home dimension through the portal you used. When we got into this dimension, I did not swim to the surface as you did; I swam deeper beneath the water, and hid beneath the yacht. Being immortal here, of course, I do not need to breathe underwater."

"And you've been biding your time until you could get back at me by raping me in my mind? And where's Spike?"

"Come now, Buffy. What makes you think I raped you? You believed you were making love to Spike. In Spike's form, I could just take you as I please, and you would not even protest, would you? Forgive me; I couldn't resist. I wanted to experience you just once before we say goodbye forever, even if only in our minds. I knew Spike had poisoned you against me by now, and this was my last chance to have you. Despite what you may think of me, I do not rape. I do not have to rape. I seduce. I encourage, but I do not take a woman against her will. I don't have to."

"You messed with my mind, another kind of rape as far as I'm concerned. Spike told me how you enthralled me before. It makes me sick to think of what I did with you. What you made me think I did just now. And dammit—where the hell _is _Spike?"

"I will never understand why such beautiful, exotic women like Drusilla and yourself would attach themselves to such a—_barbarian_ as William the Bloody. If you had let me, I would have shown you the world, lavished you with jewels and fine clothing. I would have shown you passion like you had never known. You believe me, don't you? I felt it when we were making love—"

"I wasn't making love to _you,_ Damian. In _my_ mind, that was Spike. And you're damn right I wouldn't have had sex with you without you somehow controlling my mind!" She'd suddenly lost patience with him, advancing on him until she'd pushed him hard against the stone wall. "So help me, if you don't tell me where Spike is right now, I'll—"

He smiled. "You'll what? Kill me? I cannot die here. You missed your chance back in the jungle. You should have killed me then, for now, only you can die, my sweet." That's when the intense pain of Spike's switchblade stabbed deeply into Buffy's chest. She looked down in surprise.

"I believe you dropped this somewhere," said The Immortal, turning the blade in satisfaction. Buffy landed one forceful though ineffectual punch before she dropped to her knees, the pain overwhelming her senses.

*****************

When Dawn saw Spike pass by again, this time in a crazy black and white clown costume, she knew something was up. She made a hasty excuse to her friends and followed him, calling his name as she ran.

"Spike!"

Instantly, he stopped and turned around, having picked up Buffy's scent at the exact moment he heard Dawn's high-pitched voice.

"Niblet! You seen big sis?" He tried to act calm, and he still felt a little dizzy from the poison his system was still fighting off. The tiny needle pricks had healed as soon as The Immortal had removed the darts, but he had no idea how long he had been out. No idea what might have happened to Buffy.

"Yeah, " replied Dawn. She'd known Spike long enough to recognize when he was hiding something from her. "Hey, what's with the new costume?"

"Long story, pet. Where's Buffy?"

"I thought you would know. I mean, she just went by me with you about twenty minutes ago."

"Huh? What? Where?"

She inclined her head toward the palazzo she'd seen them head toward earlier. "You guys were headed toward that big house over there. Don't you remember?"

"No," said Spike. "That wasn't me."

Chapter 13: Conclusion and Epilogue

Dawn was so used to the weirdness of the world where Buffy and friends lived, she barely felt surprised at Spike's statement.

"It wasn't you? So someone who looks like you is with Buffy now? We'd better go after them."

"Not _we,_ bit. Me. I'm goin' after them, but if we don't come out in half an hour, round up the potentials and send them after us. You stay behind, though, or your sister will skin me alive, ya hear?"

Of course Dawn was planning in her mind just exactly how she would help. But she nodded obediently for Spike's benefit. "Sure. Thirty minutes. You know who this guy is?"

"He might be a vampire, but then again, I'm thinkin' he's somethin' else entirely. Do as I say, Dawn, I mean it." He gave her the serious "look", which with anyone else would have brooked no arguments. Then, he was off again, zeroing in on Buffy's trail.

"I'll give you fifteen," said Dawn to herself when Spike was far out of earshot.

* * *

Spike's nose led him to the stairs beneath the palazzo. He followed Buffy's route unerringly, but he no longer smelled a vampire. He smelled an additional human scent, which seemed somewhat familiar, though still a little off. Someone was messing with his senses, but he had no idea how. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, and he was so glad this was one of the benefits he'd retained from his vampire days.

All at once the scent of the extra person he'd smelled came dramatically into focus. He'd smelled that scent more than once, masked slightly by expensive Italian cologne. The Immortal. _Fuck me. The bastard escaped that dimension. Why am I not surprised? Angelus is gonna pay for this…_

He slowed down his pursuit, forcing himself to think. _The Immortal must have shape-shifted into me_, he thought angrily. _So Buffy is likely not on her guard. I hope I'm not too late…_

Then he heard talking. Buffy's voice. And The Immortal's. He began running again, thankful she seemed to be alright. He wasn't listening to the words until he made it to a huge black door that looked like it had been there since the palazzo was built. It was open a crack, and he could see the flickering of torchlight.

"So help me, if you don't tell me where Spike is right now, I'll—" Buffy was saying. A few more soft words from Giordano, and the strong odor of blood filled the corridor. Buffy's blood. With a roar like an angry bear, Spike easily shoved open the door so hard it slammed against the wall, puffs of rock dust filling the air as it hit.

Spike took in the situation in a heartbeat. Buffy was on her knees, a knife hilt embedded in her chest. The Immortal stood facing Spike and the door in surprise, Buffy's blood smearing his hands and reddening the white shirt sleeve of Spike's previous costume. All he wanted to do at that point was tear the man's soddin' head off, but he remembered the pointlessness of trying. He knew in that split second there was only one thing left to do.

"Veneficus! Subsisto pro centum annus!" Spike held up his palm and watched in pleased amazement as his words instantly had the desired effect. The Immortal stilled at once, the look of surprise etched onto his face. Then he was at Buffy's side. A feeling of déjà vu nearly overwhelmed him, as he recalled how Buffy had seen him in this exact position four short months ago. He laid her on her back.

"You alright, luv?" He asked, his voice shaky and strained. She was looking at him thoughtfully.

"That really you?" she whispered.

He smiled. "I should be offended you thought that wanker was me. Now, be brave, kitten. I'm gonna pull this out. You ready?"

"Yeah," she said tightly, looking deeply into his eyes. "Quick, like a band-aid, okay?"

He grinned softly at her, love and admiration momentarily blocking out his fearful expression.

"That's ma girl. Now, on three—" He of course pulled it out on _two_. Her pained gasp made him want to die, but he pulled the switchblade out quickly, as she'd requested. He looked around for something to stave off the blood, and went over to where The Immortal stood frozen in place. Spike ripped off one of the sleeves of his shirt, hurrying back to press it to her wound. He paid no attention to the sound of Giordano's inert body hitting the stone floor.

"Can you sit up?" At Buffy's nod, he helped her to a sitting position. She saw Giordano's stiff form on the floor.

"What did you do to him?" She asked.

Spike grinned cockily. "Just a little magyck. One of the first things I did when we got out of that jungle was get hold of a witch at Wolfram and Hart. She taught me the incantation to put that menace in stasis for a hundred years." He looked around the room, observing for the first time that they were inside what looked to be an old jail cell. "And this will do nicely for his long imprisonment, don't ya think?"

Spike spied the chains on the wall, suddenly realizing what The Immortal's intentions had likely been for Buffy. Maybe for both of them. "Ya sick fuck," he muttered, going over to Giordano and dragging him easily to the wall. He propped him up against it and locked his hands in the manacles. His ragdoll head slumped forward, which Spike appreciated. The unblinking brown eyes were a little disconcerting. He could hear Giordano's heart gently pounding, and wondered if he was aware of what was going on around him. Spike picked up his head by the hair.

"If you can hear me, mate, have a look around, cause this will be your home for the next century. Hope you like these digs, but I guess if you thought if it was good enough for Buffy—" He let go of his head and watched it fall again. "If I could kill you, I'd bloody well rip you apart. But as it is, you'll be alone in the dark to ponder your sins." He looked over at Buffy, who was looking back at him, regret, pain, love, all shining from her eyes. "And I know from experience how hard that can be."

He turned his full attention to Buffy, bending over to pick her up in his arms, despite her protests. He kicked the door shut behind them, and Buffy was able to engage the shiny new padlock Giordano had thoughtfully attached to the outside.

"We better get out of here before Dawn calls in the cavalry," Spike said to Buffy, kissing her forehead as she nestled into his strong arms. As it was, they heard them halfway through the passageway_, ewing_ and _awing_ in whispers over the bones that lined the walls. 

"The Niblet needs to learn to take orders," Spike growled, pausing to listen. Buffy laughed softly.

"She's a Summers woman; what did you expect?"

"Yeah, and she'll make a great Watcher. Always thinkin' she knows what's best. Get herself killed is what she'll do."

Before they reached their rescue party, Buffy pulled down Spike's head for a deep kiss. He kissed her back, all that had happened with The Immortal finally sinking in. He could have lost her very easily a few times. He didn't much like that feeling. He pulled his head up only so he could tell her what he was feeling.

"I love you, my Summers woman. I didn't think it was possible to love you more than I did a few months ago. I was wrong. Promise me." He took a deep breath, blinked at the tears she couldn't see in the darkness. He took a deep breath and began again. "Promise me you'll let me take care of you. You'll listen to me when I tell you you're in danger. I couldn't bear to lose you again—"

"I promise," she replied, reaching up, feeling his tears anyway, feeling her own slide down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I swear I'll never doubt you again. You don't have anything more to prove to me, Spike. I owe you my life."

"No, pet. You already gave me mine. I'd say we're even." And he kissed her again, uncaring that Dawn and the potentials now surrounded them in the narrow passage, flashlights illuminating them like spotlights.

Epilogue

Three days of laying in bed, and Buffy had insisted she be allowed downstairs and out of the house. Spike carried her down (again, against Buffy's complaints) and bundled her up on the covered patio so she could see the snow gently falling and breathe in the fresh, cold air. She laughed as the girls played in the snow, especially when Giles was blindsided by an errant snowball on his way in from the car. Having grown up a Southern California girl, the snow was wondrous to her. Spike wrapped his duster around himself and sat on the chair beside her, chuckling as the girls ran screaming from Rupert's retaliatory throw. But his eyes were drawn back to Buffy. She looked so happy and innocent, her cheeks flushed with the cold. He knew she was dying to get out in it.

"You'll be better next week," he said, reading her thoughts.

She reached her hand out to hold his bare one, his high body temperature warming her through her glove.

"Then you and I will challenge the rest to a snowball fight. That would be good training for them."

"Yeah, should we meet the abominable snowman on a hellmouth in the Himalayas. You don't fool me, pet. You just want to get those pretty California toes of yours in the snow."

She met his eyes and smiled, squeezing his hand. A big square bulge in his jacket pocket caught her eye. She reached over to touch it through the leather.

"What's that?" she asked curiously.

He laughed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the box for her to see. "A present," he said

"A present? For me?" Her eyes lit up like a little girl's.

He laughed. "No, your gift is in my other pocket. I'm saving that for when we're alone." He felt the weight of the small jeweler's box that, though much smaller than Dawn's gift, was much heavier on his mind. He grinned mysteriously and waggled his eyebrows at her. She took the larger box from his hand.

"What's an IPod? I've only heard of horrible things coming out of pods."

"Well, if your sister puts her own music on it, 'horrible' is all that _will_ be comin' out of it." He briefly explained the concept, and she expressed her own interest.

"What's with the gifts? It's not my birthday for a few months. Is it an anniversary of some sort?"

"Don't you ever look at your calendar, luv? It's St. Valentine's Day." Her face fell instantly.

"I'm sorry. I forgot. I don't have anything for you." She leaned over and kissed him. "In a few days, when I get the all-clear, I'll make it up to you." He kissed her back gently, nervously thinking of the ring he would give her tonight. He was still second-guessing himself, wondering if it was too soon, if the old ponce William Pratt had been the one to retake his body this time. God knew others had been getting almost as much use of it as he had lately.

"That's what I'm hoping, sweetheart, " he told her, claiming her lips again.

*******************

Two nights later, Spike took a drag off his cigarette before replacing it again between his teeth. From the wheelbarrow beside him, he picked up another stone, laying it carefully next to the others on the wall that now reached waist high. He slapped more cement on it with his trowel, noting with satisfaction that once the wall reached the ceiling, the heavy black door would be completed covered, as if it had never existed. He'd searched for days until he'd found stones that appeared old enough and the right color to match those already in the catacombs. Spike quickly finished the job, laying the last stone on top, tapping it into place with a triumphant smile, as he threw down the butt of his smoke.

He reached into his jacket pocket for his silver flask, taking a big swig of bourbon. He raised it in silent salute to the man he'd just entombed, then gathered his masonry supplies, whistling the drinking song from _La Traviata_ as he pushed the wheelbarrow back down the dark passage.

**Finito**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Spike, the former vampire, lay with his back to the sun, soaking up the warm Italian rays by a crystal blue swimming pool. Like a white lizard on a rock, he basked in utter bliss and relaxation on the long wooden lounger, not a muscle moving, though mentally alert should some outside danger need his immediate attention. Or _someone, _like the blonde, bikini-clad Slayer who lay on her back in the chair beside him. His highly sensitive ears picked up the relaxed beat of her heart, the soft breaths she took as she dozed. Spike had died twice in his long existence, but only now was he finally experiencing what heaven could be, a joy so complete that it was sometimes scary in its intensity. Contentment like that surely couldn't last, he thought. But he'd learned to push those doubts away and enjoy the moment. Otherwise, he might just go stark raving mad.

The chirping of nearby birds awoke Buffy to the fact that she should probably turn over before she got sunburned. She looked over at Spike, a study of alabaster in sunshine. Her gaze devoured his beauty, starting with the soft, platinum hair that tended to curl a little, despite his best efforts with the gel. Then her eyes wandered to his muscular back, perfect in its lithe definition, and on down to his tight behind, clad now in royal blue swimming trunks. Slightly impure thoughts made her mouth water, but she couldn' t resist finishing her visual exploration, so she continued south to admire his powerful thighs, muscular calves, and smooth feet no spa treatment could emulate. He'd been trying every afternoon in vain to get a tan, but his new healing powers would kick in every time his skin was even slightly tinged with color, so he remained vampire pale. He seemed a little frustrated by this, but it didn't stop him from enjoying the wonder of actually being able to be in the sun without bursting into flames.

Spike heard her pulse pick up, and wondered what naughty thoughts were suddenly occupying her mind. He certainly recognized when his Slayer was excited, having shagged her every which way from Sunday in these last two weeks they'd been here. He heard her get up from the chair and kneel beside him, her warm breath fanning his ear, causing his own heart to go irregular. "Time to flip, flapjack," she whispered.

Buffy knew he wasn't asleep when she saw his sensual mouth twitch at her words. She couldn't resist reaching over to caress his oiled back, hot to the touch due to the sun combined with his already high temperature. Her hand roamed down to the waistband of his trunks, then slipped inside to cup his muscled buttocks, finally eliciting the response she was looking for—a soft, welcoming moan. Before she could register what was happening, he had turned to his back and pulled her on top of him, so that she now straddled the rising hardness she'd coaxed with her teasing touches. She tried to no avail to see the blue eyes no doubt twinkling with mischief behind the mirrored aviator glasses he wore. All she could see was her own disheveled reflection, her breasts rising and falling rapidly at her new surprising position.

"You think I'm done now, luv," he inquired sexily, tongue curling behind his teeth, his pelvis rising suggestively.

"Maybe on one side. Time to oil up your front now. Don't want you to get a nasty burn," she teased, knowing full well his annoyance on that subject. But there was no way she was going to pass up the opportunity to give his front the same loving treatment she'd given his back an hour before. She reached down into her bag between their chairs and pulled out a bottle of suntan oil, removing the cap and allowing it to softly drip over his wondrous torso. She watched his chest quiver at each drop. Using both hands, she began rubbing it slowly into his skin, her strong fingers moving first to his shoulders, then to his hard biceps, then back to his chest. Beneath his hot skin, she could feel the heavy pounding of his heart, could see his pecs moving up and down with his quickened breathing. Her hands moved lower now, outlining each muscle of his six-pack, then lower still, hesitating wickedly where the fabric of his shorts began. But at this he could take no more, pulling her down to his waiting lips, gently but forcefully invading her mouth with his talented tongue, sharing the oil on his chest with hers as they moved in a sensuous dance.

"Get a room, already," said Dawn, only slightly disgusted at the sight of her sister and her lover making out in broad daylight. In truth, she was delighted to have them both here, together, happy and obviously in love.

"Dawn!" squeaked Buffy, jumping off of Spike, who hurriedly grabbed a towel to throw over the front of his trunks. Dawn snickered to herself, but didn't comment.

_Bloody fine super-hearing I have, _Spike chided himself. Seems the only weakness he had these days was when he was wrapped up in the Slayer.

"Buffy, someone is here to see you. He's waiting in the house." Buffy looked longingly at Spike, who smiled in complete understanding. She thanked Dawn and grabbed her robe, heading back up the cobblestone path to the villa. Dawn had obviously come for a swim, wearing a modest one-piece suit and flip-flop sandals, a towel in one hand and a beach bag in the other. She spread her towel on the chair Buffy had vacated, kicking off her sandals and pulling out the sunscreen. She eyed Spike, who seemed to be trying to regain control of himself.

"So , you got nothing better to do than mack on my sister all day?"

He tried not to smile at her mother hen tone. "Shouldn't you be in school, little bit?"

"It's Saturday, as you well know. 'Sides, I wanted to get down here before all the potentials filled the pool up. They're driving me bananas."

This villa on the outskirts of Rome currently housed twenty potential slayers, all being trained by Buffy, Giles, and now Spike, preparing them to relocate to the Hellmouth in Cleveland. Faith and Robin Wood had taken the surviving slayers from Sunnydale and set up shop there, training their own arriving potentials. The plan was to totally saturate the area until a way to close the Hellmouth could be found, and with all the potential slayers in the world needing guidance, they felt there needed to be a headquarters both in Europe and in the States. Willow was in South America with Oz, working on finding out mystics who knew about spells that closed Hellmouths. Xander was missing in action, but Dawn had her fingers crossed that he would find a way to deal with the pain of the loss of Anya, and make his way back to them. Whether he thought so or not, they needed him here. She and Buffy missed his wit and funny stories, needed the experience he'd gotten fighting demons almost as long as Buffy had.

"So, who's this mystery man come to see Buffy?" Spike asked casually. Dawn caught the hint of jealousy in his tone that he tried to hide.

"Some guy that's been helping us. He says he'll donate about 10,000 Euro every month, which is a good thing, 'cause Giles ran out of his own money when he put the down payment on this place. With most of the Watcher's Council gone, we're pretty much on our own here."

"Buffy never mentioned you were strapped for cash. I mean, I have some hidden I could have dug up."

"As if she would tell you about it. And now with Damian's help, we have enough to keep ourselves afloat—if we don't take in too many potentials at a time."

Spike pondered this new information, wondering if Buffy hadn't shared it with him herself because it was a trust issue, or because she didn't want to worry him. He chose to believe the latter, secure finally in her love for him, in her forgiveness for his numerous past transgressions. He still couldn't help feeling out of the loop—which it seemed, in fact, he was. He'd have to make his position clear that if he was going to be a part of what they were doing here, he wanted to be in on everything—good and bad. Buffy would just have to get used to the fact that she wasn't alone anymore.

"Does this Damian character know what's really goin' on here?" he asked Dawn, who had finished applying her sunscreen and was sitting on the edge of the pool, her feet making lazy circles in the cool water. She looked over her shoulder at him.

"Yeah, he seemed to know everything about us. Who Buffy is, what Giles does. He said he has a personal interest in ridding the world of evil. Being so hard up, we weren't going to ask too many questions."

This didn't sound right to Spike. It was unlike Buffy and Giles to be so trusting of a stranger. There had to be a catch.

"What did he ask for in return?" Spike asked, a suspicious knot suddenly forming in his stomach.

Dawn grinned at his expression, even with the aviators shielding some of it. "All he asked for was a date with Buffy."

Spike was rendered speechless with jealous rage, and his mind worked overtime to keep himself from running after Buffy and beating this wanker to a bloody pulp. How dare some git try to buy his Slayer. And she so desperate she fell for it. He gritted his teeth so he could ask the obvious next question without snarling.

"And has he collected on his date, then?"

Dawn's grin turned to a full-faced smile. "Not yet," she said, looking at her feet again with glee. He really loved her, otherwise this wouldn't have bugged him at all. It was a comforting thing to know. "It was set for the day after she went to LA to get you. I guess he must be here to reschedule."

"And what did you say this bloke's name was again?"

"Damian Giordano. But people around here seem to know him as The Immortal. Doesn't that sound kinda cheesy? I mean, what conceit. It's not like he's a vampire or any—"

But when Dawn looked back at the lounge chair again, Spike was gone.

Chapter 2

Buffy had just shut the door after Damian Giordano had left when suddenly a flash of white and blue plowed past her. Spike flung open the door, only to see the tail of the black stretch limo pulling away. He actually shook his fist at the vehicle, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Come back you bloody thievin' bastard! I'll rip your arms off and pummel you with them! I'll shove your head so far up your arse you'll turn inside out! Get back here ya fuckin' sonuvabitch!" He had run halfway down the front steps, his pulse pounding in rage. Buffy just stared at him in shock, for she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him so angry. She watched him seethe a moment, then his head dropped in frustration. He looked up at her, his face red with emotion, but not the least bit contrite at his outrageous behavior. Slowly, he climbed back up the steps.

Giles too had witnessed the spectacle, and stood by in shock. Catching the Watcher's eye, Spike apparently wasn't finished with his diatribe yet. He walked straight up to Giles and got right in his face, his voice dropping dangerously.

"Rupert," his hissed, "I don't believe you've been doin' your Watcherly duties, mate. Tell me, did you do any research on The Immortal bastard that's been fillin' your coffers, or was gettin' them filled all you bleedin' cared about?"

Giles was not intimidated. His voice was calm and very British. "Now see here, Spike, I most certainly looked in to Damian's background. I know who he is, what he has done in the past. He's a womanizer who will likely live forever, but other than that, completely harmless."

"Oh, is that all? And you allow this—this—_womanizer _to have a go at Buffy here?"

"Hey!" protested Buffy. She came over and pushed an unsuspecting Spike away from Giles. "Nobody's goin' at anybody here. What the hell is wrong with you?"

By this time, Spike seemed to have calmed down somewhat. His face had lost its angry color, but he was still obviously agitated. Buffy would have stood by to ogle his half-naked state if she weren't so annoyed herself. It wasn't every day that Spike and his glorious, oil-slicked body graced the foyer.

"Now, tell me what's got you so whigged out," she said softly, prying his clenched fists apart so she could take his hands in hers. She led him to a nearby couch in the parlor, making him sit down with her.

"The Immortal, pet. He and I have a…history. I guess it wasn't in the Watchers' Journals," he said, throwing a sarcastic expression back at Giles. "This ponce beguiled Drusilla--oh, and Darla too. You might ask Angel's opinion of the wanker if you don't believe me. He had Angel and I captured , strung us up in a barn so he could shag Dru and Darla--at the same time, I might add. They were traumatized for days after. It was so bad, Dru didn't even want to--he has no respect for other people's belongings. I swore if I ever saw him again…"

"And this has your knickers in a twist," smirked Giles. Buffy felt Spike start to rise at that remark. She pulled him back down. "A long ago tryst with your ex- vampire lover is not worth losing our funding, Spike,"Giles continued. "I suggest you deal with these feelings and leave them in the past, before you bugger things up for us here."

Spike finally met Buffy's eyes. "You feel the same way, luv? You gotta believe me, this bloke is a master of manipulating women. I'm told he uses no spells or glamours on them, but I'm convinced he must hypnotize them, or put them in a trance of some sort. I don't want you goin' out with him."

"What? Damian and I have a business agreement, Spike. Dinner is the least I can do after all his help and support."

At her easy acquiescence to The Immortal's demands, Spikes anger flared anew. He wrenched his hands from hers and got to his feet. "Just dinner, eh? He pays you money. You give him what he wants. Just what kind of _business_ is that, sweetheart?"

That remark was met with a collective gasp coming from the direction of the stairwell. Unbeknownst to the trio in the parlor, twenty potential slayers in a rainbow of bathing suits had paused on their way down the stairs, halted by the unusual sound of voices raised in argument. As women, they were all understandably offended by Spike's implications. Giles hurried over to usher them through the house toward the door leading to the pool. He further chose that excuse to let Buffy and Spike work this out on their own.

"If you were still a vampire," Buffy nearly growled, "you'd be a pile of dust for that crack." Spike had realized almost immediately he'd said the wrong thing. All the anger rushed out of him and he looked sheepishly back at her. He dragged his hand through his hair and sighed raggedly.

"I'm sorry luv, truly. I didn't mean it. You just don't know the hell he put me through, and I can't bear the idea of losin' you to such a prick. I've never heard of him not getting what he wants. And according to Dru and Darla, he's so good in the sack no woman can resist him."

"Have a little faith in me, Spike. I'm not an idiot. I have a pretty good idea what he wants from me, but he's not gonna get it. All he's getting from me is a dinner companion for one evening. What harm could that be, if I'm going into this with my eyes wide open? Dru and Darla were a couple of disloyal bitches who'd screw any guy that caught their eye. I'm not that way, Spike. You know I'm not."

He pulled her close to him, fear twisting his gut in ways he'd never imagined possible since she'd taken that nose dive to save Dawn and the world. "It's not you I don't trust, Buffy. It's that asshole who has powers you aren't prepared for. Please, I'm beggin' ya luv. Don't do this. I'll find some other way to get your money. I'd flip burgers at a Doublemeat Palace before I'd let you lose this place." They both smiled a little in memory of her tour as a fast food employee back in Sunnydale. But his attempt at humor was not going to sway her from what she saw as her duty.

"He's picking me up tomorrow evening at six. I'll be gone a couple hours, and ask him to take me home as soon as I politely can. Then I'll spend the rest of the night making it up to you." She leaned in and huskily whispered in his ear, one hand trailing softly down his chest then further down to lightly cup him through his trunks. "I'll make it worth your while. You _and_ Little Spike."

He pretended to cave in to her particular brand of manipulation, but his mind was racing as to how he could protect her on her date. "Not so little, baby," he growled, pressing her hand more tightly against him. He dipped his head and caught her lips with his, hoping his seeming capitulation would placate her until he figured out a plan of his own. One thing was sure in Spike's mind—The Immortal wasn't going to take Buffy. She was worth at least a thousand Dru's to him.

That night, Spike made love to Buffy with more intensity than he'd shown since he was made corporeal. She somehow felt like he was trying to memorize her, to hold the moment so that he would never forget. He worshipped her with his hands and mouth, stopping often just to hold her and breathe endearments into her hair, her ears, her lips. At one point, she felt a slight wetness on his cheeks, so she brought his face up to hers. She saw his sapphire eyes glimmering in the candlelight.

"What is it?" she whispered. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut a moment.

"Nothin'," he finally said. "I just can't believe you're here with me. That you love me like I love you. Sometimes I feel like I'm dreamin', and I'm scared I'm gonna wake up. Then I feel you next to me, I feel how it is to be inside of you, and I'm overwhelmed with it. Sorry…don't mean to be such a git."

"I'm sensing no git-ness here," she smiled gently, wiping his face with her palms. "This is real. You have nothing to be afraid of. I'm not going anywhere."

He kissed her softly, then began moving within her again. It wasn't long before she was trembling with the power of his thrusts, as if he were desperately trying to get more deeply inside of her, to fuse himself to her forever. When they'd both found completion, he reluctantly withdrew from her, but pulled her tightly back to his side.

"I love you," he whispered to her, over and over, until it was almost like a lullaby, and she fell asleep in his arms.

Chapter 3

It was good that Spike had something to do the next day, otherwise he would have done something stupid, like find The Immortal Wanker and bludgeon him to death. As it was, he tried his best to focus on taking turns sparing with each of the potentials. It was all so mindless to him he felt he could literally beat every one of them in his sleep. He wasn't overpowering them, but he wasn't giving them much of a chance either. After the tenth girl he'd done this way, Buffy, who was standing to the side watching with interest, chose that time to intervene.

She reached down to pull up the little redhead, who was lying on the gym mat, panting hard after Spike's last blow knocked the wind out of her. Buffy gave Spike a meaningful look, which he seemed not even to see.

"Hey, Spike," she said to him, sotto voce, "try to focus, okay?" He snapped out of it a little when he saw she was facing him on the mat. The two of them hadn't sparred since Spike had returned from the dead, so he immediately perked up at the thought of being able to finally beat the Slayer. They'd established he was stronger in LA, but strength didn't always overpower finesse, so he was interested to see how things had changed since the days she would sucker punch him in the nose. His familiar, cocky grin let Buffy know he'd suddenly come out of his funk.

"Well, well, well, Slayer. You wanna play with the big boys now, yeah?"

"You don't look any bigger to me, _William_," she taunted. She listened to the soft laughter of the other girls. They began circling each other, sizing each other up now that the balance had shifted some.

"It's not the size of the dog in the fight, luv…"

"It's the size of the fight in the bitch," she finished, landing her first kick into his tight stomach. He didn't even double over, as he would have not so long ago. His smile grew wider.

"Watch and learn, pets," he said to the room at large. And then it was on. They danced into their old familiar rhythm, but Buffy knew he wasn't even exerting himself. She used all her best moves, landing a punch here, a kick there, but he deflected them all with ease. The potentials watched in awe, not only at the beauty and grace of their movements, but at the heightened sexual tension coming off the pair in waves.

"Quit holding back," Buffy finally said as he let her pin him on the mat. She looked down into his twinkling eyes. This was fun for him—for both of them, really. This had been their five years of foreplay, back when they were more evenly matched. But now she wasn't about to be allowed to win if he wasn't giving her his all. There wasn't a chip in his head to hold him back now. He nodded at her wickedly, and she knew he was about to open the floodgates. It took about two seconds to have their positions switched—she was now on her back and he had her arms pressed into the mat.

"You sure 'bout this, Slayer?" She tried to get free, but she was right and truly pinned. Getting into the spirit of the new game, he helped her up again. She launched herself at him in answer, and managed to push him back a few feet, but another two seconds, and she was on her back again. The girls applauded and laughed at her predicament. Over and over, she was checkmated in record time. There was no way she could beat him now without a weapon. While this frustrated her to no end, she was secretly excited for him. She knew what it felt like to be indomitable, so she was willing to allow him this feeling, a repayment for all the times she'd pummeled him till he was battered and bloodied.

Buffy also concluded that a strong Spike was a sexy Spike. As he lay on top of her on the mat for the fifth time, he caught the subtle change in her expression, his nose flaring slightly as he scented her desire. Buffy knew she might have lost the battle, but they both were going to win soon as the potentials were out of the way. It took a moment and some knowing laughter from their audience before Spike had the wherewithal to stop fantasizing and get up off her. He pulled her up by the hand to stand beside him.

"And that, ladies, is what can happen when you confront something stronger than you without a weapon," Buffy told them, smirking good-naturedly at Spike. "Be prepared. Always be armed or scanning your surroundings for something you can use to fight. Strong as anything out there might be, most things can be killed by decapitation. Why don't you all go outside and work at hacking those hay bales with the new machetes."

They all excitedly converged on the wall where the shiny new weapons hung, chattering animatedly about the demonstration they'd just watched, and the vamps they planned to behead some day. When their girlish voices had moved up the stairs and out of the basement, Spike grabbed Buffy and pulled her in for a much-needed kiss. Good to know that, no matter their change in circumstance, fighting still got both of them incredibly hot. A few breathless moments later, Buffy pulled away.

"Wow," she muttered, "I forgot how good it feels to fight you."

He chuckled softly. "Now you know why I always came back for more of your abuse. I wasn't really a masochist; I was a sex-fiend."

"Well, that explains it." And she wound her arms around his warm waist, her ear pressed against the pounding heart in his chest. They stood there a moment, till their pulses settled down.

"Why were you acting so weird earlier," Buffy asked, remembering his preoccupation when he was training the potentials. She felt and heard his sigh beneath the black t-shirt he wore. He gently let her go and walked away, his back to her.

"I'm still worried about that date of yours, pet. I'm not sure you're quite gettin' ma point a view here."

"Spike, you gotta quit this. We'll be in a public place. You're really going psycho over this." He turned abruptly to face her. His Slayer was the most stubborn woman he knew, and he realized that logic now was his final recourse. If this didn't work, well it was on to Plan B. He was pretty sure she wouldn't like Plan B.

"Somethin's been buggin' me that the Niblet mentioned yesterday. She said The Immortal knew everythin' about you. Well, if that's the case, it wouldn't have taken a Watcher to discover you'd had two vampire lovers. And not much more research to find out it was Angelus and I you'd bedded. Some coincidence, eh? I wouldn't put it past the burk to put it to us again, like he did with Darla and Dru."

He could almost see the wheels turning in that sharp brain of hers. Thinking was good. Her thinking made him hope.

"Say you're right," Buffy began tentatively. "Say he is playing some sick game with me. I've met the guy on more than one occasion, and he had no attraction for me. For one thing, I was too busy grieving for you, and for another, he's just not my type. Too brunette. No sexy British accent." She smiled enticingly at him, but he didn't smile back.

"He might notta been turnin' up the charm full blast. Could be he was waitin' to give you a taste of the lotus flower." When she looked at him blankly, he sighed in frustration, his hand inevitably going up to smooth out his hair. "Didn't you pay attention in Literature class? _The Odyssey, _luv. _The Odyssey. _Ma point is you may have no control over yourself, and not even realize it. You might 'lose your hope of home,' and I'd have to tie you up to get you away from him. Under normal circumstances, that might be fun, but I'm thinkin' you wouldn't like it much."

She considered him a moment. Spike wasn't one to overstate things. Sometimes he was known to _understate,_ when he was leaving relevant things out, but exaggeration wasn't one of his habits. Despite this, she felt compelled to have her date anyway, for fear that all that money they so desperately needed could be taken from them. Having dinner didn't make her a prostitute. Did it?

"It's just one date, Spike. Please have some faith in me. I can take care of myself. By this evening it will be over, and all your fears will be laid to rest." She kissed him on the cheek. "I love how you're so protective of me, but there's nothing to get all worked up over. I'm not your typical girl, remember?"

"Yeah, alright, then. Guess there's no convincin' ya. Just try not to forget me when he's got you under his spell." He tried to sound breezy about it, leave things on a positive note so she wouldn't be suspicious he might take matters into his own hands, which is precisely what he intended to do. She traced his lips with her thumb.

"How could I ever forget you, Spike? You keep turning up just when I think you're gone for good." She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Sorry, gotta go get ready. I need to jump in the shower. You could join me…"

"As tempting as that is, I gotta few things of ma own to do. I won't say 'have fun,' but I will tell you to be careful."

"I love you. That's something I'll never forget," she whispered, kissing him. With that, she left him standing alone in the basement.

"Plan B it is, luv," said Spike, looking after her with much apprehension.

Chapter 4

A/N: Apologies to anyone who speaks Italian or has ever been to Rome. If you see any mistakes, call the following chapter poetic license---please??!!

Needless to say, Spike did not make an appearance to see Buffy off on her date with The Immortal. It was just too painful, and also, he didn't want to tip his hand by kicking his ass. But he still had the problem of where the bastard was taking her. He certainly wasn't going to ask Buffy, and she wasn't very forthcoming, likely because she didn't want him following her and screwing things up. So, he turned to the next best thing. He knocked on Dawn's door.

"Nibblet, can I come in?" How she could hear him over the loud music, he didn't know, but the door opened almost immediately.

"Sure. What's up?" He looked at the stereo with his best fatherly expression. Dawn huffed once, rolled her eyes, and turned it down. "You were so much more fun when you were evil."

"Maybe if you weren't playin' that hip hop rot, I'd have you crankin' her up, pet." She directed him to her desk chair, which he picked up and sat in backwards. "I need some information."

"Oh?" she asked innocently. "What info can I possibly have for you, Spike?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You gonna make me choke it out of you, or are ya gonna just spill it."

"That depends," was her sly reply. "There's something I want." He knew this might be coming, so he dug in his back pocket and pulled out a wad of cash.

Dawn glanced at the money, and sniffed at it. "Not enough. No—I want an iPod."

"An I-what?"

"An iPod. All my friends are getting them. It's like a Walkman, without the CD's. It holds hundreds of songs, and it's really small."

"How much?"

"Two hundred Euro." At his shocked expression, she played her trump card.

"Hey, I was sworn to secrecy. She only told me in case of an emergency. I hate betraying her trust." She looked at the digital clock on her stereo. "Time's a-wasting….they're probably already ordering by now."

"Fine, ya hustler, but I don't have the money together just now. Now, where are they?"

She smirked victoriously. "A place called Romeo's—near the Coliseum."

He snorted. "Romeo's. That bloody figures." He stood and kissed Dawn on the forehead with a loud smack. "Thanks, Bit, I owe you."

"Yeah you do," she called after him as he took off through the house at full speed.

Spike had the taxi drop him off near the Coliseum, and he moved quickly through the crowds of tourists and the crazy traffic until he found the restaurant. As luck would have it, they were eating al fresco, so he snuck up behind some nearby bushes to watch. The outside lighting came from romantic strands of white lights hanging in small trees and embedded in the shrubbery. The striking pair sat at a cozy round table, complete with white tablecloth , candles, and red wine.

The first thing that crossed his mind was how beautiful Buffy looked. She was wearing a black strapless cocktail dress, which showed off her smooth, tanned skin, and her long hair had sun streaks in it almost as blonde as his. She still took his breath away. The second thing that crossed his mind was that he wanted to kill The Immortal for the way he too was looking at her. He tried not to notice just how handsome the man was. All dark hair, swarthy complexion, expensive suit, blinding white teeth. It was enough to make a bloke sick to the stomach. The long-ago rage he'd felt when discovering Dru and Darla, blissed out over the man's sexual prowess, came back with a vengeance. _There'll be no sexual bliss for Buffy tonight,_ he thought. _Well, at least not with the bloody Immortal. _

The couple were not far from him, but he had to hone in his enhanced hearing to listen to them over the chattering surrounding them. It wasn't too difficult, since they seemed to be the only ones not speaking Italian. Buffy seemed totally enraptured with every word that left Damian Giordano's mouth. He was talking about some trip he'd made on the French Riviera in his yacht—the braggart—his accent lending an exotic air to everything he was saying. Then Spike noticed his hand. _The bastard's hand was on top of Buffy's hand. And she was allowing it—hell, she looked to be __**enjoying**__ it._

It took all his self control not to jump the bushes then and there. But he reigned himself in, trying to keep his eye on the prize and put his plan into motion. Just then, a waiter noticed his odd behavior, spying on the patrons, ducking suspiciously behind the shrubbery. He spouted off a string of accusatory Italian, which Spike ignored. He pointed toward Buffy and Giordano.

"Moglie," he said angrily. _Wife._ The waiter followed the direction of Spike's finger, nodding in complete understanding. He patted Spike on the back conspiratorially, mumbling sounds of sympathy before leaving him to continue his surveillance. Buffy was sipping her wine, alternately taking delicate bites of her salad. He remembered her low tolerance for alcohol, and he wondered how many it would take before she would be drunk enough for the ponce to accost her. He wasn't about to let that happen.

_Okay, on to the next phase. _He dragged himself away to walk back to the street, his eyes scanning the curb for Giordano's limo. It wasn't hard to find, though it was parked in the relative privacy between two large trees. He remembered the license plate from when he'd nearly chased after it the day before. Leaning rather unprofessionally against the side of the car, the driver smoked a cigarette, looking very bored and uncomfortable in his close-fitting gray uniform and cap. _Child's play,_ Spike concluded, taking out a smoke of his own before walking casually toward the driver.

"Gotta light, mate?" Spike asked him.

"Si," he replied, reaching into his pocket for a familiar Zippo. Too bad his own beloved lighter hadn't survived the Hellmouth. He held it out, and Spike took it, lighting his own cigarette with exaggerated gratitude. He inhaled deeply before handing the lighter back.

"Thanks. I was about to go mad. I'm tryin' ta quit, and this is ma last one of the day." He leaned against the limo companionably, both men sharing some smoke time. He looked at the limo, then back at the driver.

"So, must be someone important in there."

"Si. Don Giordano," he replied, his accent heavy. "I drive for him, but he takes so long at these places. And this is a new uh—how you say—_conquest_, so this could take all night."

"Conquest, eh?" Spike tried hard not to inject anger in what should have been polite conversation with a stranger.

"Si. The man is a god with the women." He gestured with his cigarette. "Never I see a man so smooth, so _perfetto_. He treats them like a goddess, and they give him blow jobs in the back seat. Is truly _incredibile_ to watch." He realized how that sounded. "Not that I watch," he amended, flushing. Spike made a show of looking through the open driver's side window.

"Nice car. Very posh. It's so big though—is it hard to drive?" Spike took one more puff, then put out the cigarette with the toe of his boot.

"No. No. Is like making love to a very tall woman. Everything is in the same place, you just got to reach farther to get her going, eh?" They laughed together.

Spike began walking around to the back of the car where the tree partially secluded them, as if in deep admiration. The driver followed helpfully, pointing out the chrome hubcaps, extolling the finer points of the interior. Beneath the low hanging tree, Spike made his move, putting his hand up to the guy's shoulder in a friendly gesture, before looking around. No one seemed to be paying any attention to them, which is why no one noticed when Spike brought the driver's head forcefully forward, banging his head on the trunk of the car. He was out like a light. He held him up to keep him from slumping to the ground, and dragged him to the side of limo, opening the door and pushing him inside. Spike joined him, making quick work of taking off the man's uniform and removing his own clothes, thankful for the dark tint of the windows.

Once dressed as a limo driver, Spike stepped out of the car, looking carefully before quickly wrapping the unconscious driver in his duster, then opening the trunk with the stolen keys. He quickly deposited him inside, tossing his own clothes in on top of him. As an afterthought, he took the Zippo from the driver's uniform pocket and slipped it into his duster pocket, before softly shutting the hatch. He nodded and smiled to a passing couple, who werer holding hands and enjoying the evening. Spike got into the driver's side, pulling his cap down lower over his forehead. He put the key into the ignition, hunkering down in the seat to wait.

Buffy couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed an evening more. Damian was so charming, so interesting. He'd been around thousands of years, so he had an endless supply of stories and historical name-dropping. She found him to be extraordinarily fascinating. The wine and delicious pasta were making her feel so relaxed and happy. But it was Damian's soft brown eyes that held her attention the most. They would sparkle and shine with laughter one minute, passion the next. His voice washed over her like the warm waves of the sea, and she felt herself drowning in it, feelings she never knew she had overwhelming her at his sexy tone. His hand gently caressed hers, and he leaned in closer to her.

Their dessert arrived, crème filled cannoli that he fed to her, laughing softly as he reached out to wipe cream from the corner of her mouth. As if unbidden, her tongue slipped out to lick the tip of his finger, and she watched with a shiver as his eyes darkened with lust. _Oh my,_ Buffy thought. _He is going to be so good in the sack. _The thought came to her mind as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"So," Damian was saying, "I hear you have a new guest at your villa." She looked at him blankly.

"He goes by the name of Spike," he prompted. Buffy felt like she should know this, but nothing was coming to mind.

"Spike…" she echoed. "Oh! Oh yes. He used to be a vampire. He's not anymore though. He's staying with us at the villa, but for the life of me, I don't remember why."

"He _used_ to be a vampire?" Damian said in surprise. "Hmm…interesting." Abruptly, he dropped the topic, and turned the full force of his charm onto the extremely receptive blonde.

Spike was growing very impatient. He'd turned on the radio, but the strange sound of Italian pop music, or, even worse, _opera_, pelted his ears and his nerves, so he flicked the radio back off in frustration. He'd been sitting there an hour, and he told himself he'd give them five more minutes before Plan B became Plan C, and he staged a coup on Romeo's. He was about to reach for the door handle, when he spied them heading for the limo. Buffy didn't look drunk exactly, but he certainly didn't like how she clung to Giordano's arm and leaned into him, looking up adoringly into his eyes at whatever the tosser was saying.

They arrived at the car door facing the sidewalk, and he saw Giordano looking around expectantly, no doubt wondering why his driver wasn't outside at once to open the door for them. Spike was in a quandary. He couldn't get out of the car because he'd run the risk of both of them recognizing him. Even worse, Buffy would be royally pissed. He pulled his cap down even lower over his eyes, trying to pretend he'd fallen asleep. A spate of angry Italian and a pounding on the window made him jump in surprise.

"Shit," Spike muttered to himself. It was the minor details he'd overlooked that always seemed to come back and bite him in the ass.

Chapter 5

Spike didn't get out of the limo; he merely unlocked the door and kept his mouth shut, ignoring The Immortal's angry outburst. Giordano opened the back door and politely helped Buffy inside, before climbing in himself. He pulled the heavy door shut and rolled down the glass partition between the front seat and the back. Spike looked straight ahead. It was then that he realized another problem with Plan B: he didn't speak Italian. Oh, he knew a few words and phrases to get by in public, but once several sentences were strewn together, he was completely lost. Which was how he was feeling as Giordano continued to lambast him. He did manage to pick out words that questioned his parentage and another phrase he thought meant "drive through the park." Which led him to see the third problem with his plan: he didn't know his way around Rome.

He hadn't been there since the 1950's, and he hadn't owned a car then. Walking the side streets and alleys at night didn't make him too familiar with the more public streets, and things had changed since then. This is why he'd taken a taxi to the restaurant.

Giordano finished his diatribe and rolled back the partition. It was completely opaque, and would have been totally sound-proof to the human ear. But Spike could hear their soft laughter and talking, the clinking of glasses and popping of champagne. Resigned to his predicament, Spike pulled out into traffic.

He drove down the street and happened to see a sign pointing to what he remembered was a public park, Villa Borghese. He turned in and drove slowly through the tree-lined drive, one ear attuned to the activity behind him. It seemed fairly innocent until suddenly Spike heard a few familiar sighs and moans that could only be coming from the mouth of his Slayer. Sounds he had only heard when they were—he slammed on the brakes and got out of the limo.

The back door was locked, of course, which didn't stop Spike from pulling the damn thing from off its hinges and throwing it behind him in a burst of superhuman adrenalin. He vaguely heard the door slam into something metal and slide down a hill as he stood in the now open doorway and stared in shock. Buffy lay prone on the long seat, her strapless dress pulled down to expose her beautiful breasts. Giordano was lying on top of her, mouth agape comically at the sudden interruption. Spike literally felt his vision go red with rage.

"Get your bloody mitts off my woman!" Spike roared, before reaching in to pull him off Buffy with both hands. Giordano met a similar fate as the limo door had a moment before, slamming into a distant light pole with a satisfying thud. Spike shuddered at Buffy's surprised scream, but he reached in to pull up the top of her dress, trying to avoid her punches and kicks as she fought against what she perceived as an intruder.

"It's me, Buffy!" He reassured her, believing she was having a drunk reaction. "Stop your damned fighting. It's me—bloody hell—quit! Dammit!" She'd gotten in a good sock to his nose, and he reeled back in pain. "What the fuck's wrong with you?"

By this time, Giordano had returned. He surveyed the damage to his limo dispassionately, his lips forming a smug smile as he watched the battle ensuing between Buffy and Spike. His calming voice reached her ears.

"Buffy, amore mio. Calm down. He won't hurt you." As if a switch had been turned off, Buffy immediately quit her struggle and her green eyes focused on Giordano. Spike turned at Giordano's only slightly disheveled form, he himself breathing hard with anger and exertion.

"What have you done to her?" he growled, fists clenched as he got out of the limo.

"Well, well, well. William the Bloody, is it? It has been a long time. Funny how the world works, eh? Once again, what was yours, is now mine. And it is doubly rich, because from what I understand, this fair lady once also belonged to Angelus. Very funny indeed." He laughed softly to himself at the irony.

As tempted as Spike was to attack him, he knew it would do no good. The Immortal was, by definition, un-killable. Not only that, nothing and no one could hurt him in any way. And the man wouldn't even fight—Spike knew this from personal experience. He would stand there and allow himself to be pummeled, stabbed, and even burned, but he was totally invincible. He didn't even feel pain. A freak of nature in more ways than one. And now this freak had Buffy.

"I'm takin' her," said Spike softly, "You're a lover, not a fighter, as I recall, so you won't do bugger all about it."

"I won't need to. You can have her for now. She's mine whenever I want her." He held out his hands for the keys to the limo.

"Not bloody likely," said Spike and threw the keys as far as he could deeper into the park. But he wasn't just talking about the keys. He reached back into the car and pulled the now-compliant Buffy out. Her eyes never left The Immortal, and she reached out to him, but he ignored her.

Spike's dramatic exit was quashed when he realized he'd left his duster in the trunk with the driver. He went back to the limo, opened the driver's side door, and pressed the button that opened the trunk. He held Buffy's hand firmly in his, nearly dragging her along with him. It was almost like she was drunk, but he knew better now. She was in a trance of some kind, and it was like his worst nightmare come true. She didn't seem to recognize him, and the realization felt like he'd been punched in the gut. As nonchalantly as he could, he removed the driver's coat and exchanged it for his own, not bothering to take the rest of his stuff. The driver emitted a low moan, so Spike left the trunk open. It must be his soul acting up, because in his past life, he wouldn't have cared. In fact, the driver would have been dead, two perfect puncture marks in his neck. Times sure had changed, he thought, shaking his head.

The whole time, Giordano just watched in amusement, and Spike could feel the anger building in him again. All he wanted to do was get Buffy the hell away from him, and thankfully she allowed him to pull her by the hand, but her head was turned to gaze at The Immortal until he was enveloped in the trees and darkness. Then came the whining.

"Where's Damian?" Buffy began to ask this over and over, the enthralled version of "are we there yet?" By the time they reached the main boulevard, Spike was wishing mightily for a muzzle. She turned her ankle on one high-heel, and the heel broke off. She stumbled, but Spike caught her, lifting her up in his arms and carrying her like a rag doll. He managed to flag down a taxi and gave the address of the villa. Mercifully, Buffy passed out during the drive.

Spike paid the cab driver and carried Buffy up the front steps of the villa, digging the keys from his coat pocket before awkwardly letting them in. No one else was home, and Spike remembered that Giles was going to take the potentials out patrolling in a cemetery an hour's drive away. Dawn must have tagged along, for she didn't come running when he called and the music wasn't blasting from her room as usual. So no one was there to witness Buffy in the state she was in. Giles wasn't there to find some spell that would reverse whatever thrall she was under. Her care was totally up to him. He wasn't used to that being the case. It was a little scary.

He carried her unconscious form up to the room they shared, laying her on the bed. He shook her gently. "Buffy? Luv, you awake?" She moaned a little, and it sounded painfully like she'd said "Damian" again. He sighed, running his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth before her. He thought of calling the Watcher, but knew he'd only be met with annoyance that he was overreacting. He'd just say she'd had too much to drink; let her sleep it off.

"But we know better, don't we Buffy," he murmured, "the bastard has you totally pole axed, and nothin' either of us can do 'bout it." He looked at the clock by the bed. It was after ten, and he was exhausted, both mentally and physically. He took off his coat and black t-shirt, then his boots, and finally the gray slacks from the limo driver, tossing the whole lot on a chair. He took off Buffy's dress and pulled the covers back, then slipped into bed with her. She may as well have been dead, so still was she, but he could hear the gently pounding of her heart, and the soft, regular breathing he was only now getting used to having next to him in the night. He inched closer to her, spooning her body to his, nuzzling the fragrant spot at the crook of her neck. The nights of worry had finally caught up with him, and he drifted into sleep minutes after he closed his eyes.

Buffy awoke to the pleasantly warm feeling of Spike's arms wrapped around her, her head resting on his chest, the comforting yet still surprising beat of his heart beneath her ear. Her first thought was that she must have drunk too much wine, because she couldn't recall much past that first drink Damian had plied her with. She had the sensation in the back of her mind that it had been a nice enough evening, and the food and drink were wonderful. The more she thought about it however, the fuzzier things seemed. She was never good with alcohol, and that Italian stuff could be pretty strong. It was a little scary not remembering how she'd gotten back to the villa. She realized she was only in her panties, and wondered if Spike had had to remove her dress for her.

_What he must think of me. I've probably just added more fuel to his jealousy, coming home drunk like that._

He must have felt her shift, for suddenly his arms tightened around her and his eyes flew open, anxiously looking into hers.

"Buffy?" he said tentatively, a slight tremble in his voice. She couldn't help but smile at his boyish appearance, hair a riotous mess of curls, eyes wide and questioning.

"Were you expecting some other girl in your bed?" She literally saw the relief wash over his face, and he pulled her to him even tighter, his hand going to her own messy hair. She let him hold her a minute, feeling his need for reassurance, though not fully understanding it. She gently pulled away a little to look at him.

"Hey, what's wrong? Sorry I seemed to have come home drunk. You know me and alcohol. Wine good. Wine strong. I lucked out in the hangover department though. The bed's not even spinning."

"What do you remember?" he asked, and she saw he was holding his breath. She laughed nervously.

"Not much, I'm afraid. We went to dinner, the food was good. I assume the wine was too, obviously. The rest of the evening is a blank. Did you undress me?"

"Yeah…you were pretty out of it." Spike's mind was spinning. She was herself again, and had no memory of all the night's crazy events. But his own memory was crystal clear, and the thought of that asshole with his mouth on her—his eyes squeezed tightly shut at the pain of it. So, he could tell her what happened, but what would be the point? Would she even believe him? He knew she'd be mad he'd followed her. No harm was done after all, except to Spike's peace of mind. And Giordano's limo. Another thought occurred to him. The Immortal would not be giving up, he was sure. He hadn't gotten all that he wanted from Buffy, and now that he knew Spike was with her, the idea of shagging his girl was likely too much for the bastard to resist. All he could do now was try to keep him away from her.

He opened his eyes, noting how concerned she was at his odd behavior. "So, you're end of the deal with Giordano is over, yeah? You went out with him. You fulfilled your obligation, right?"

"Yeah, that was the deal. Though I still feel in debt to him…"

"No! Promise me that's the end of it. Promise you won't see him again. Let me help you find some other way. I'll get a job. I'll—"

Her fingers moved up to his lips, silencing him. "Spike. I will always be grateful to Damian for funding our operation here. But I don't intend to see him again…not in that way. Quit being so jealous. I'm yours, and only yours. I want only you." Her voice dropped with emotion. "I _love_ only you. I thought you believed me at last, that when I told you at the Hellmouth, I wasn't just saying the words. Where is all this insecurity coming from? He can't compete with you for my heart. You know that, right?"

He looked into her eyes, and yes, he believed her. Right here, right now, she was his, and only his. He just had to figure out a way to stop The Bloody Immortal from taking her away from him.

"Of course I believe you, pet. You _are_ mine. Nothing is going to come between us again; I'll see to it till ma dyin' breath."

"Then kiss me good-morning already, will ya?"

Spike was more than happy to comply, and their passionate kisses turned into a passionate joining that shook him to his soul. As he moved within her, he knew he was trying to imprint himself on her body, embed himself so deeply inside of her that there was no way she'd ever be able to get him out of her system. He hoped and prayed his love would be able to inoculate her against what he knew would be more anxious days ahead. As they both cried out their release together, he could almost believe it.

TBC

Chapter 6

The day was going so well that Spike could almost forget about the horrific night before. Buffy had certainly forgotten, especially when he'd made love to her again in the shower. It wasn't Damian Giordano's name she was crying out then. Everything seemed back to normal. Dawn had gone off to school. Spike and Buffy had spent a few hours training the potentials physically, and now, Giles was training their minds in demonology, ancient weaponry, and the _Slayer's Handbook_. Yes, everything was going along swimmingly. Then the flowers began arriving.

Six dozen roses of varying pastel shades, from lavender to apricot, filled every available space in the entry way and front living area. The potentials exclaimed over each arrival, inhaling the delicate flowers and praising the romantic gesture. None of the bouquets had cards, so they assumed they were from Spike to Buffy. He stood at the foot of the stairs in quiet rage, as Buffy too got into the spirit of the other girls and added to their praises. She looked around and saw him there, silently watching, his face unreadable. She nearly ran over to him and slammed into him with a fierce hug, raining kisses on his face and thanking him profusely. In her excitement, she didn't realize right away that he wasn't hugging her back or returning her kisses.

"What is it?" She asked finally.

"They're not from me, pet," he said softly. Her surprise made her speechless a moment.

"Not from you? Then who—" Then it dawned on her, and she looked back at the roses in shame.

"Sorry I didn't think of it myself," he was saying dully. "Very classy, I'll give him that."

She reached down to squeeze his hand. "I was only excited when I thought they were from you. I don't need flowers from you, Spike. That's why I was just so surprised…I mean, this isn't like you. I don't know why I didn't see that right away."

"It's okay, luv. Not one for the over the top gestures, you know that. Still, he obviously enjoyed your company last night." He wasn't going to betray how her comments about his lack of romantic overtures hurt him to the core. It was true. He wasn't much of a gift-giver. He'd given her flowers once when her mother had died, and tried to give her chocolates when she was driving him mad, but he was ashamed he'd done nothing else for her. He guessed he'd known she would have refused him in the past, so fear of rejection had kept him from that. Well, he had no excuses now, and he vowed to rectify that soon. But that didn't solve the problem of now. The Immortal was playing dirty, and he'd have to step up his game if he was ever going to defeat him.

"I'm actually a little pissed off at him for this," Buffy was saying. "He knows I'm with you. Our date was just a friendly one. I don't think I gave him any encouragement."

Spike laughed sardonically, eyes on the girls as they flitted from flower to flower like butterflies. Every so often they would look over at Spike and Buffy, whispering and giggling over what might have prompted the huge display.

"Sweetheart, a man would only have to look into those gorgeous green peepers of yours to feel encouraged. Don't blame yourself for this. Believe me, it was all him."

"Okay. But I'm sending them back."

"Don't bother, luv. He'll just send more. Let the birds wallow in the romance of the moment. Maybe I'll score some points with them."

The knock at the door startled them all, and Buffy walked over to answer it, fully expecting more flowers. She hadn't expected Damian Giordano to be standing at her doorstep, yet another bouquet in hand. These roses were red. Spike knew full well what that color represented. His heart picked up, fear tingling along his spine. Giordano was smiling and looking deeply into her eyes, and Spike felt himself move to stand beside her at the door, taking her hand protectively.

"Damian," said Buffy formally. "Please, come in." Spike felt her squeeze his hand in reassurance. She didn't seem to be succumbing to his charms, so he must not be turning it on. He relaxed a little, but was still on his guard. Buffy gestured for one of the potentials to take the newest addition to join the other flowers, and suddenly all eyes were on the trio near the door. Things just got even more interesting.

"You remember Spike, I'm sure, "Buffy said, not hiding that she knew their history. Giordano smiled in delight.

"Naturally. We go way back. It's been a long time." He held out his hand, which Spike shook reluctantly, noting the infuriating twinkle in his eye when Spike squeezed his hand much harder than necessary. Of course, he felt no pain; only humor, apparently.

"Giordano. Yes, a very long time." The bastard wasn't giving him away. Everything was a game to him.

"Thank you for the flowers," Buffy began, "but they're too much, really. You've already done so much for us…"

"Think nothing of it. I enjoyed our evening. Just a small token of my affections. I also come with another invitation."

"Damian—" Buffy was about to object, but he politely ignored her.

"This isn't just for you, amore mio. This is for all of the household." He raised his voice to include the girls who had been eavesdropping anyway. "You are all invited to join me for a day on my yacht. It's more than big enough to accommodate everyone, and I'm sure the lovely young ladies would love a break from their training. A day on the water would be just the thing, don't you think?"

The girls, of course, squealed in delight, imagining living _Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous _for a day. They looked to Buffy expectantly. She was looking at Spike. He avoided her gaze, seeing that she had no idea how her fate was in the decision she was about to make.

"Oh, please, Buffy," came the chorus from the living room. "We've been working so hard."

Spike caught Giordano's eye in resignation. The guy was good. He risked a glance at Buffy. He felt his heart drop to his stomach the moment he knew she would accept. He knew what she was thinking. They would be surrounded by chaperones. Spike was apparently invited as well. The girls _had_ been working hard and deserved a break. How could she deny them this? They'd think she was an old scrooge if she did. What harm could it do? Drawn by the sound of the commotion, Giles joined them in the foyer. The Watcher shook hands vigorously with The Immortal.

_Wonderful. Here comes the final nail in my coffin, _thought Spike.

Giordano extended his invitation to Giles, who put his personal stamp of approval on the idea, no doubt secretly wanting to encourage the courtship. Giles saw the writing on the wall. He knew Spike must be inwardly squirming at this, and he relished it.

"Why not," said Buffy at last, not meeting Spike's eyes. The girls erupted in excitement, and Giordano basked in the glow of his success.

"Fantastico! We will leave at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Wear your bathing suits, and leave the rest to me." He moved to kiss Buffy on both cheeks, who flushed becomingly in embarrassment. With a nod to the others, and a smirk directed at Spike, Giordano made his grand exit. The girls ran chattering up the stairs discussing what they would wear and what the next day might hold. Sensing the tension in the air, Giles made some lame excuse and left Buffy and Spike to the fallout.

Spike almost fell onto the third step, feeling overcome with anger, fear, and sadness. But mostly, he felt helpless. Buffy sat beside him, reaching up to lift his head so she could look into his eyes.

"This is for the girls, Spike. Not for me. You get that, right?"

"Right, luv. I do. Don't worry about me. I'm fine with it." She knew he was lying through his teeth, but the last thing she wanted was another argument about The Immortal and his motives. Spike was jealous, and he just had to learn to trust her. To trust their relationship. Maybe this little trip, where he could see her innocent interaction with Damian, would reassure him and put all his fears to rest.

"Won't it be nice to have a day away?" She enthused, trying to get him to cheer up and look on the bright side.

"Sure, pet. You all deserve to have some fun. And I'll be there to see that you do." The pleased light in her eyes at his words made him feel only slightly better about things. He knew he was so whipped he'd do anything to make her happy, but he still wasn't going to sit idly by and watch The Immortal take her away from him. He knew however, that this problem was now beyond his capacity, but that there was one other person in the world that would understand the situation. One other man who had the resources to help him fight Giordano. So, as Buffy kissed him softly on the lips and headed out on some errand, Spike walked to the phone in the kitchen. He opened the address book that sat beside it to the first page, marked _A._

Spike dreaded making this call nearly as much as he dreaded going on that yacht cruise the next day. But he could think of no other options. So, with a resigned sigh, he picked up the phone and dialed. A familiar, girlish voice answered on the first ring.

"Wolfram and Hart. Angel's office. May I help you?"  
"Hello, Harm," said Spike.

There was a beat, then: "Spike!" He held the phone away from his ear. "I can't believe you're calling me!"

"Well, not exactly, pet—"

"I'm mad at you, by the way. You left without saying goodbye."

"Well, I didn't think you wanted to see me again."

"Not if you're still with the Slayer, you traitor."

"Listen," Spike began impatiently. "I'm not a vampire anymore, Harm, so there's no longer a conflict of interest here. So could ya please just put me through to your boss?"

"He's in a meeting."

"Well, tell him this is an emergency involving Buffy. He'll talk to me."

"Fine. Hey, Spike," she said coquettishly, "next time you're in LA…"  
"You'll be the first one I call, luv," he finished. Of course, the next time he set foot in that place, Hell would be in the deep freeze. A minute later, Angel's familiar gruff voice came on the line.

"This had better be good, Spike."

"Would I be callin' you if it wasn't? Believe me, you're literally the last person I'm callin' for this, Liam."

"Get to the point. Harmony said it's about Buffy. What's going on? Is she okay?"

"She's fine at the moment. But you'll never guess whose attemptin' to get his hooks and whatever else he can into Buffy-- The Immortal."

"What? You're supposed to be protecting her. I never would have let her go if I knew—"

"Like you had a bleedin' say in the matter. Look, the bastard is fundin' their whole operation here, and Buffy feels in debt to the guy. She went out with him last night and I couldn't do anythin' about it. I stopped their date before he went too far. But he put her in some kind of thrall, just like what we thought he'd done with Dru and Darla, remember? But it's a little different with Buffy. She can't remember shit about it, even though when I caught up with them, her clothes were near off."

"Sonofabitch, Spike! Can't you do anything right? Hell, I'm coming out there."

"No! You think she'd listen to you any more than she did to me? I warned her about him. I warned her Watcher. They think I'm overreacting. That I'm just jealous—"

"Well, aren't you?"

"Naturally. If half of what Dru and Darla said about him was true…" He trailed off, and both men were remembering all The Immortal had put them through. "Listen, "Spike continued, "as much as it pains me to say this, you're the only one I know who understands what I'm goin' through here. Could you maybe get your people on this? And I mean fast. He's takin' us all out on his yacht tomorrow, and I'm already seasick just thinkin' 'bout it."

"Yeah, I'll get Wesley to start researching. And remember, Wolfram and Hart has offices in Rome, so they'll be at our disposal too. I'll call you as soon as I know something. Are you on a cell phone?"

"No, this is Buffy's villa. My phone was charging…"

Spike could clearly hear the exasperation in his voice. "I'll transfer you back to Harmony and you give her your cell number so we don't tip Buffy off. You better protect her until I can figure out something. If you get her killed, or worse, I'll kill you Spike, I swear to God…"

"Yeah, yeah. If the worst happens, I'll save you the trouble."

He waited while Angel transferred him back and dutifully gave Harmony his number. The conversation had gone pretty much how he'd predicted, but it was the first time he remembered having ever felt better after talking to Captain Forehead. He felt in his gut that he'd done the right thing by calling Angel, even at the expense of sounding weak to the man he'd hated for a hundred years. If Angel came through on this, Spike might have to reassess his feelings towards his former grandsire.

_Whoa, now. Don't be too hasty, William, _he amended to himself. He put the phone back in its cradle and headed to the Watcher's locked liquor cabinet. He picked the lock and poured himself a shot of Rupert's best single malt. He had a feeling it was going to be another sleepless night.

Chapter 7

The call came at four a.m. Spike had his cell phone on vibrate and had slept—or rather, dozed—with it under his pillow. Still, when it vibrated gently, he thought he might jump out of his skin. The Slayer stirred next to him, and he leaned over to kiss her bare shoulder, murmuring comforting words to get her to go back to sleep. He hastily pulled on his jeans and padded barefoot down the stairs, slipping quietly out onto the back patio so he wouldn't awaken anyone else in the house. It was quiet, save for the soft gurgling of a decorative fountain.

By then the phone had stopped buzzing, so he redialed . Angel's impatient voice gave a clipped greeting.

"Sorry. We were sleeping," Spike replied, unable to stop himself from tormenting Angel with the mental image of him and Buffy in bed. "Did you come up with anythin'?"

Spike grinned a little, as he could almost hear Angel grinding his teeth together. "You have two options. Neither one is gonna be easy."

"Naturally," Spike sighed, one hand pushing through his tangled curls.

"Option one: we open a portal into a dimension where he's no longer immortal. Then, you kill him."

"I'm likin' this option—"

"Well, option two is a little less dramatic. We put him in a state of stasis, where he can do nothing at all for a hundred years."

Spike mulled over the two plans, trying on the fly to work out the pros and cons of each. It was a daunting process. "Which one do you suggest, Liam?"

"Well, option one is certainly a more permanent solution. Option two is temporary, but as you guys won't be around in a hundred years, it would do the trick. The problem with that is you—or a witch from the Rome office—have to cast the spell in his presence. And someone else might be able to get the spell reversed."

"And the problems with option one?"

"You've seen enough portals to know how unpredictable they can be. You'd have to go with him, and run the risk of not being able to return, yourself. I personally am leaning toward that option."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Spike smirked. "But why would I have to go with him? Couldn't we just open the portal and pretend he no longer existed?"

"No," said Angel. "The portal will just reopen again in a few hours, and if he waits he can come right back through then. You'd have to make sure he didn't."

"Okay, I can see the risks with that, but I'm not likin' the stasis idea much either. I don't want to have to be constantly looking over ma shoulder, wonderin' if the wanker would be able to get out of it and come after us again. Tell me more about how we open that portal."

Spike listened as Angel spelled out the details, feeling good about what the end result would be, but a little unnerved at all the other dimension stuff. And Buffy wouldn't like either plan, he knew for certain. She hated others doing things behind her back "for her own good." Spike didn't much like that aspect either, but at this point, it couldn't be helped. He knew in his heart that he'd rather lose her to anger than have her sexually enslaved by The Immortal.

"We should have researched a plan like this long ago," Angel was saying. "Gotten rid of him back then so we wouldn't be going through it again now."

"Yeah, but back then we didn't have Watchers or Wesleys. And if we had, we'd have eaten them first, asked questions later."

"True," Angel agreed with a brief bark of laughter. "Someone from the Rome office will be in touch."

Spike hesitated, almost physically incapable of saying what he knew he owed his former grandsire. "Liam. Thanks. Not for me, but for Buffy."

"That's who I'm doing it for. And Spike…don't fuck this up. Call me when it's done."

"Right." The connection was broken, and Spike stood awhile, looking toward the west where he could see the gradual lightening of the sky. Not too long ago, that would have been his signal to seek shelter from incineration. But now, he reached into his pockets for his cigarettes and new Zippo, enjoying the view but preoccupied with what could go wrong. It's not like he hadn't died for Buffy before, but then, he felt he'd had nothing to lose. Buffy had cared about him, but he had been under the misconception that there was no future for them, that she would never love him as he loved her. This time, he knew what he'd be missing, so if he was damned to another dimension, or even cast out of her villa, Adam and Eve would have nothing over him in the banishment department. Buffy wasn't just his Eden, she was his Heaven, and he'd almost rather die again than to be without her now.

Spike took a deep pull of his cigarette before exhaling in a smoke-laden sigh. His phone vibrated in his hand, and he found himself talking to an ebullient Italian woman about the intricacies of opening portals into other dimensions.

The sun had barely come up before Spike heard the patio door slide softly open. He smiled at the sound, but didn't turn around, rewarded by the feel of his silk robe-clad Slayer hugging him from behind, her hands reaching around to caress his bare stomach. She kissed the nape of his neck, and the feel of her soft tongue there made him shiver with sudden desire. He flicked his third cigarette into the fountain and took one of her smooth hands in his.

"You're up early," she commented, her chin resting near his shoulder. "Not sleeping well lately, are you?"

"No. But it'll pass." He nodded toward the sunrise, lovely in shades of yellow and pink. "'Sides, I don't think I'll ever get used to watching the sun come up. I'd forgotten how beautiful it could be."

She moved around him to face him, to embrace him now from the front. She pulled back to look at his face, how the soft rays were highlighting those fabulous cheekbones, lightening his eyes from sapphire to crystal blue. "_You're _beautiful," she said simply, pressing her lips to his. "Like a fallen angel."

"Not a very manly comparison," he said, a little embarrassed at the expression, and not too keen on any comparison that recalled another "Angel."

Her hands were on his face now, tracing the sharp angles and full bottom lip. "Let me say again how much I appreciate you going along with Damian's boating idea. I know how you feel about him…"

He reached up to still her hands, bringing them down to their sides, lacing their fingers together. "I don't really think you do, luv. But that's neither here nor there. I'll go along for the ride, but I'm not gonna lie to you—_at least not about this, _he thought—I hate the son of a bitch, and I'm only goin' to watch out for you girls, make no mistake about it."

"Still," she persisted. "thanks anyway, no matter your motivation. And hey, it might even be fun to be out on the water in the sunshine. When was the last time you got to do that?"

He thought a moment. "In the sun? Never. I've travelled on boats and ships around the world, but only came out on deck at night. So yeah, I guess it will be a new experience at that."

She was quiet suddenly, resting her head on his chest, wrapping her strong arms around his waist, while he brought her in closer to his warmth, reveling in the fresh scent of her hair. All was right in Buffy's world, and she was loath to think there could be anything to ruin that feeling. It had been so long since she had been this happy and carefree. Everyone she loved was safe. She'd only recently gotten into the habit of pushing away negative thoughts, a state that, while unfamiliar, was now like a new addiction, even better than chocolate. She wasn't paying attention to niggling doubts or fears, even though she felt them coming off Spike in waves when she spoke of Damian Giordano with him. No, it was easier to think of him as just being silly, or flattering in his jealousy. Besides, if she could handle an apocalypse or three, surely she could handle an immortal Lothario and a jealous former vampire. She deserved to live in a state of bliss after all she'd been through the last seven years, didn't she?

As Spike swooped down to catch her lips with his, she breathed into his kiss, deepening it while the morning rays shone all around them. _Yeah,_ she thought contentedly, _I'm definitely deserving of this…_

At precisely ten o'clock, five sleek, black limousines arrived outside the villa. Normally, Giles would have driven the mini bus they had leased for such outings, but The Immortal obviously liked to do things in style. Spike just raised one eyebrow and got in the limo for the "grown-ups," which included Giordano, Buffy, Giles, and himself. Spike watched in silence as Giordano poured and passed around expensive champagne. The silence was awkward, and Spike's tension exacerbated it since he was keeping such a close eye on every glance or overture The Immortal made to Buffy. He also wondered if Giordano would mention their altercation the night before. So far, the evil bastard was doing a great job of playing innocent. It would seem it was in both their best interests to keep the matter their little secret. Still, Giordano couldn't resist getting in a few vengeful digs at Spike.

"So, William,"—he didn't miss Spike cringing at the name—" you have not been to Roma since the 1950's, si? I can understand that, given your unfortunate accommodations during that particular stay." Infuriated that he was bringing up ancient history to make him look bad in front of Buffy, he made a desperate effort to calm himself. Buffy and Giles were looking at him askance, however, so there was no way to avoid comment.

"Yeah, you managed quite a feat back then. Havin' me arrested for tax evasion so you could shag Dru again. I wasn't even a citizen of this bloody country! It's really a shame a good-lookin' bloke like you can't get a woman without resorting to trickery and magic." _Take that._

"Now, William, I never use magic. It is my charisma--a curse, I know. The women, they cannot seem to resist. You are a handsome man yourself. Surely you have had similar problems."

Spike snorted. "All my birds I get fair and square. You should try it some time." And he took Buffy's hand possessively. Buffy, uncomfortable and a little irritated with the conversation, tried lamely to change the subject.

"How big is your yacht, Damian?"

"As big as they come, signorina. As long and sleek as an obelisk. But you will have no trouble getting used to it, and I am sure it will fully accommodate your needs." The innuendo did not escape Buffy, but she just returned his polite smile. Had Spike said such a thing once upon a time, he'd have earned a punch in the nose.

"We will sail down the Tiber to the sea," continued Giordano in his most proper tour guide voice. " You will enjoy the many historical buildings and sights along the river. It is truly a magical cruise."

"I would be most interested in the ruins near the mouth of the river," injected Giles, sipping his champagne and thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Si, si. Belissimo. You will love it, I am sure." He turned to the Slayer, obviously bored with her Watcher. _At least we have that in common, _Spike thought, downing the last of his champagne. He wished he could get good and pissed, but the upcoming portal event prevented him from refilling his glass.

"Aside from William here, we have another friend in common. You know Angelus, am I right?"

Buffy hesitated, Angel being a very private matter to her. "Yes, I know Angel."

"I hear he now has a soul. How fortunate he will likely not be damned for eternity."

"I wouldn't count on that," mumbled Spike.

"And now," continued Giordano, ignoring Spike's remark, "he is fighting evil in Los Angeles. Much like we are fighting evil in Roma, si? Please tell him next time you speak to him that we should put the past behind us. Tell him he is most welcome in Italia any time. I promise I will not steal his women from him again." And he laughed good-naturedly. Buffy's answering smile seemed much more strained. _Hmmm…a chink in his shining armor, _thought Spike, almost gleefully.

Spike was about to comment on how The Immortal was trying to steal _his _woman, when their arrival at the harbor interrupted him. Docked near the parking lot in an extremely long slip, rested the yacht, _Innamorato. _It was as big and beautiful as promised. _Clearly the ponce is compensatin' for somethin', _thought Spike.

Spike snorted at the yacht's name. "Always wanted a cruise on the Love Boat." He was pleased when Buffy laughed.

He slid out of the limo, disregarding the proffered help from the driver, who fortunately for him was not a familiar face, and reached back inside to help Buffy out. She'd already gotten out on the other side, however, and Giordano held on to her hand triumphantly, proceeding to lead Buffy up the wooden ramp, Giles following. The limos carrying the girls arrived right behind them, and everything became chaotic as they got out of the cars and gathered before the gangplank leading to the yacht.

Giordano's constant narrative on the features of the boat and the historical aspects of the harbor was grating on Spike, but he could tell the man was impressing Rupert to no end. He could also tell Buffy was no more interested than Spike was. Spike sighed and waited at the bottom for Dawn to join them.

"Impressive, eh Niblet?"

Dawn looked up to where Giordano still held Buffy's hand. "Impressive what an asshole he is," Dawn whispered. Spike couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped him. The Summers women were always surprising him.

"Language, pet. What would your mum say?"

"She'd agree, Spike. You just gonna let him take her away from you like that?" He stopped her right in the middle of the ramp, while the others complained and then maneuvered around them. He tried not to sound angry, failed, and remembered that she didn't scare easily.

"Listen here, little girl," he hissed, " No one's takin' anythin' from me. That wanker will get what's comin' to him, you wait and see." He realized he'd nearly said too much, especially when she suddenly smiled knowingly. He let her pull her wrist away that he'd been gripping in his frustration.

"I knew you weren't gonna stand for this. Buffy can be so stupid sometimes. Now, how can I help?" It took a moment for the shock to wear off. Spike shook his head slowly, then looked around to be sure the potentials were all onboard.

"Whatever happens, you're to do nothin', you hear? Stay out of the way."

She grinned. "Whatever you say, Spike." He watched her long, coltish legs carry her on up into the yacht.

"Bloody hell," he cursed aloud, then made it to the top in one angry leap.

Chapter 8

It took about an hour to go the twenty miles down the River Tiber to the Tyrrhenian Sea. The poet in Spike admired the beautiful perspective of Rome from the water, but the warrior in him wanted to get on with the fight. The portal could be opened once they reached the open sea, using a few mystical words that were the equivalent of "open sesame." The difficult part would be opening it with an audience, so timing was of the essence, as were Spike's acting skills. There were so many variables to consider that he vacillated between going through with it and calling the whole bloody thing off. But one look at the Slayer, laughing at one of The Immortal's lame jokes, and Spike became instantly committed to the idea.

The potentials were certainly enjoying themselves, what with the sun, the luxury of the yacht, and the antipasto tray the crewmen set before them on the upper deck near the spa. Spike didn't want to deny them this small reward for their hard work, which was why he'd relented. Giles stayed in the shade at one end of the middle deck, sipping expensive scotch and occasionally referring to the guide book he'd brought, the git. Buffy , Giordano and Spike sat at the other end, joined by a watchful Dawn, who helpfully ran interference for Spike by injecting her girlish opinions and asking pointless questions of Giordano about the scenery. Occasionally, she would wink at him. Spike would just shake his head slightly and smirk at her.

Spike knew he was being unusually quiet, and Buffy would glance at him worriedly, but he would give her a semblance of his wicked smile, and she would go back to her conversation with The Immortal. She seemed captivated by the man, but not like the night when she'd forgotten Spike's name. Spike assumed Giordano was biding his time, not wanting to tip anyone off to his intentions by obviously mesmerizing her, but using just enough of his charm to keep her interest. Those chinks in his armor Buffy had detected earlier seemed to have disappeared completely, Spike realized, his heart sinking. But that only reinforced his desire to be rid of the menace once and for all.

They entered the sea and motored out about two miles off shore, where the yacht dropped anchor. The girls who wanted to were invited to dive off the yacht and swim in the warm sea. There were some takers, who were not afraid of sharks, who teased the others about the irony of wanting to fight demons with teeth but not big fish.

The adults and Dawn stayed aboard, watching the potentials' antics with amusement. Spike rose quietly to his feet. It was time to make his move. He drew The Immortal to the railing, away from Buffy and Dawn.

"Giordano, you do much fishin' from this thing?" he ventured.

The Immortal looked surprised. "Si, William. I have fishing poles onboard. You want to catch a fish for our supper?"

"Sure. If you're up to makin' it a little more interestin'. How 'bout a wager?" Spike was counting on the man's overblown ego and desire to impress Buffy to get him right where he wanted him.

The Immortal's handsome face broke into a wide smile. "Whoever lands the biggest fish, si? And what do I get when I win?"

"Another date with Buffy. Alone."

"You are willing to put up your greatest treasure against the fates? But tell me, in the impossible event that you might win, what do you ask of me?"

"You get out of her life for good. Withdraw your funding, and stay the hell away from all of us."

He considered this a moment. "You know I don't need a wager to take her away from you. Just a few minutes alone, and she'd be putty in my hands. You know this, yet you suggest this ridiculous wager."

"Whatever you may be, Giordano, you are a man of your word. If you take this bet, I'll believe you won't renege on it. This is my last sportin' chance, I realize this, as do you. But if you are so unsure of your fishing abilities…."

He laughed, fully aware he was being baited, and enjoying the irony. But Giordano had difficulty resisting a bet on a sure thing, and what Spike was unaware of, was Giordano's ability to charm the fish from the very sea. Yes, this would be a great story he could tell for ages hence, once he had Buffy in his bed.

"Very well, William. Very well." He proffered his hand to seal the deal, which Spike gladly shook. Buffy noticed the two men and the determined handshake they'd exchanged. She joined Spike at the railing as Giordano excused himself, saying something about fishing gear.

"What was that all about?" she asked Spike, admiring how his white hair shone and tousled about in the sun and wind.

"I challenged Giordano to a fishing contest."

"Are you sure you didn't say 'pissing contest'?" She was leaning against him, his arm encircling her waist as they listened to the distant sound of laughing girls and the gentle lapping of the water against the boat.

"Very funny, Slayer. I'll have you know I'm an excellent fisherman."

"You're kidding." Her green eyes were wide and amused.

"I have a wealth of abilities you have yet to plunder, luv." And he twisted his tongue in that sexy way that had her heart pounding.

"Hmmm…you been holding out on me?," she asked, reaching up to kiss him while she had the chance.

"Gotta save some secrets," he murmured against her lips, before deepening the kiss. Giordano's polite throat clearing interrupted them, and they turned from the rail to see Giordano standing nearby, two heavy fishing poles and a tackle box in hand. Spike took the obviously longer pole, and Buffy laughed.

"I guess there's no need to measure poles now, is there" she whispered in Spike's ear in passing, following Giordano up the stairs to the top level.

"Not even a question luv," said Spike good-naturedly. He waited a moment for Dawn to catch up to them, wanting to stick by Spike and be in on things when she could. He stopped her before she mounted the stairs.

"When I signal you, distract her," Spike whispered. Dawn nodded, happy he was taking her up on her offer.

They went to the quieter end of the upper deck, away from the laughing and splashing potentials, an easy fete on the two- hundred-foot yacht. Spike sat through Giordano's suggestions, despite the fact that he had gone deep sea fishing many times, albeit in the dark, but the Immortal was conceited enough to enjoy showing Spike a thing or two, even if it was just about fishing. The two men had settled into their seats, lines cast, when Spike nodded to Dawn.

He watched out of the corner of his eye while Dawn exclaimed at something another girl was doing, and dragged Buffy by the hand to the other end of the boat. Giordano had swiveled his chair away from Spike's, concentrating on catching the biggest fish for Buffy's benefit. _Now or never, _Spike thought. He said the magic words under his breath.

Almost immediately, Spike saw the swirling opening to the portal, but instead of in the air, as he was accustomed to seeing portal openings, he saw to his dismay that the opening was in the sea, churning the water into a little whirlpool. Wasting no more time, he set down the fishing pole and motioned to The Immortal.

"Whatever can that be?" he asked, faking excitement. When Giordano leaned over for a better look, Spike pushed him over the railing. He watched him fall into the portal and disappear. He looked around, but no one else seemed to notice it. It lacked a lot of the sparkly lights and sucking noise your run of the mill portal usually had. He felt the fear nearly freeze him at the spot, but the thought of the zombie-like expression Buffy had after her date with The Immortal flashed in his mind, literally launching him into action.

"Well, bollocks," he muttered. He took a deep breath and jumped in, following The Immortal into what he hoped wasn't a watery grave.

Dawn looked back to where Spike and Giordano had been fishing, just in time to see Spike jump overboard. Having no idea of Spike's plans, she couldn't help her reaction when she saw him disappear, fully clothed, over the side.

"Spike! Man overboard!"

Buffy turned to look, running to the side of the yacht past the now empty chairs. She could see a swirling hole in the sea, and past experience made her immediately identify it as some sort of portal.

"He jumped in there?" asked Buffy.

"I guess so! I saw him go over the side!"

Buffy turned to Dawn. "Stay here. I'm going after him."

"But Buffy—" she started. But before she could grab her arm to stop her, the Slayer dove cleanly into the portal. Dawn watched in dismay as it closed up behind her, and she was looking once again at the calm, blue sea. She remembered the day Buffy had jumped to her death through another portal, to save _her._ Once more, she hadn't even hesitated to sacrifice herself for someone else she loved. Dawn stood a moment in shock, then her wits returned and she yelled at the top of her lungs:

"Giles! Help!"

Chapter 9

The cold sensation of water dripping on his face awakened Spike, and for a moment, he couldn't remember where he was. _I have to tell Buffy there's a leak in the ceiling, _thought his dulled brain. But then a splash went up his nose and he sat up, instantly awake. His eyes were greeted with the deep green dampness of a tropical rain forest, and he looked up to see that the water was coming from giant leaves dripping after a recent rain. The sun came down in dappled patterns, diffused through the trees that reached impossibly high above him, and the air was filled with strange birdcalls and the eerie sounds of unknown beasts.

` He'd successfully made it to another dimension apparently, and he got to his feet, looking around the dense undergrowth for signs of The Immortal. Cautiously, Spike reached into his boot, where he'd shoved a switchblade—the only weapon he could have hidden from the Slayer's perceptive gaze. He remembered that morning when she'd laughed at him for wearing boots for a boat trip, but of course he'd had ulterior motives, and he'd allowed her to believe he was a hopeless fashion victim. So now, knife in hand, he stood up with the intention of finding Giordano and slitting his throat, then waiting for the portal to reopen in a few hours. _This plan might actually work for once, _he thought with satisfaction. But first he had to find Giordano. He couldn't have gone far. Then he heard a familiar moan. His head whipped around to the sound, and he felt his heart drop to his stomach with a resounding thud.

To Spike's horror, there lay Buffy to his left, sitting up and rubbing her head dazedly. _Bloody hell. _She saw him, and abruptly snapped out of it. "Spike?"

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Can someone please give me a fuckin' break! _His inner voice raged.

He stood immobile, unable to even move his feet to go and help her up. His mind was racing, and he watched as if from a vast distance as Buffy nearly ran to him, hugging him with her strong arms. "Spike! What the hell happened? Why did you follow Damian through the portal? And where the hell are we?"

He had no truthful answers to any of these questions, but was saved for the moment from outright lies when the sound of rustling foliage alerted them that something big was moving nearby. Spike figured it was Giordano, and drew Buffy closer to his side as they backed up beneath a tree to better observe what was crashing through the jungle. But what greeted them was not Damian Giordano; it was a humanoid creature with death-gray skin, mottled brown spots on its forehead and neck. Angry red eyes scanned the area, as if searching for its prey, and long, sharp fangs hung menacingly over its bottom lip.

"Well this guy's not too pretty," Buffy whispered.

"Yeah, and doesn't look to be a kindly gent." Spike flicked open the switchblade. Buffy's eyes widened appreciably.

"Is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?"

Spike smiled devilishly. "Always, pet. So, shall we let the bugger come to us, or take him by surprise now?" But the decision was taken out of their hands when the demon caught sight or scent of them, and its blazing eyes zeroed in on them with angry purpose. With a wolf-like growl, it ran the ten yards distance, throwing itself at Spike before he knew what hit him. The knife flew out of his hand and the two wrestled on the jungle floor a moment, while Buffy jumped on the creature's back. It was a crazy three-way tussle, each of them having their turn rolling on the ground in a tangled heap of flailing punches, kicks, and dangerous teeth. Buffy finally disentangled herself, and while Spike and the demon put death grips on each other's necks, she managed to pull the monster off Spike and throw it against the trunk of a nearby tree. Dazed by the impact, it slumped to the ground.

Buffy held her hand out to Spike, who took it gleefully—he always relished a good fight—despite the blood pouring from one nostril and the fang marks that had torn into his white t-shirt and drawn blood from his shoulder. Buffy grimaced as he wiped the blood from his nose on the back of one hand.

"Well, that was fun," said Spike. "Now we—" He looked over to where the demon had lain, but nothing was there. He nodded toward the tree. "Mr. tall, dark, and scary made a run for it."

"Huh," said Buffy. "That was weird. He took his beating and ran. Not very sporty of him. You didn't even get to use your switchbladey thing on him or anything." Spike laughed, suddenly scanning the ground for said weapon, shrugging when he couldn't find it.

"So, how do we get out of here? I hope Giles can figure out where we went and how to get us back." At Spike's strange silence, Buffy looked at him more closely. "You still didn't tell me why you and Damian jumped through the portal. What's goin' on here, Spike?" She knew him too well, knew when he was lying, knew when he was up to something. He sighed in resignation, looking her dead in the eye.

"I'm the one who opened the portal, luv." He watched her mind work by the array of emotions crossing her face, and braced himself for impact.

"You were trying to get rid of Damian, weren't you?"

"Buffy, let me explain—"

"I can't believe you! We've been over this and over this, Spike. You've got to learn to trust me, or this is never going to work."

"Trust you? Bloody hell, Buffy, I trust you with my life! It's you who needs to start trustin' me for a change. Somethin' had to be done to that bastard or he was going to take you away, enthrall you, and make you into his sex slave. Then, mark my words, it would have been the niblet next, then those potentials, one at a time."

"You're nuts, Spike. Certifiable. I've been alone with Damian many times, several before you were back here, before I knew you were alive. He's done nothing to me. I don't want anyone else but you and—dammit! I'm sick and tired of this argument!" She turned away from him in frustration, and he watched her back rising and falling with her anger. He put his hands on her upper arms, gently turning her back to face him.

"Tell me, what do you remember from your date with Giordano the other night? You remember seein' me? You remember fightin' me when you didn't know who I was? You remember the lovefest with him in the back of the limo? You remember him with his hands on those beautiful breasts of yours that were made only for me? Because I bloody well do. I was there, Buffy. He had you so twisted 'round that you didn't know your own name, let alone mine. You were completely under his spell, and I--" his breath hitched at his sudden emotion—"I couldn't get through to you, pet. It was like you were lost to me." His voice lowered to a strained whisper, his hands holding her arms almost too tightly. "Almost like when you jumped off that scaffold and I watched you die…"

Buffy's eyes widened at his impassioned words, at the eyes that had gone a watery blue as he pleaded with her. Spike saw in her face the moment when everything seemed to click into place. Did she finally believe him? It occurred to him that maybe she hadn't believed him before because The Immortal had been surreptitiously influencing her. And now, in this dimension where Giordano's powers were diluted, she was finally able to think more clearly. _Yeah, that had to be it._

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked him, reaching up to touch his cheek. His hand covered hers.

"You wouldn't have believed me. You were too close to the situation—too close to him. Too worried about financing the cause. I was threatening that, I realize. But I'm tellin' you the truth, Buffy. He's dangerous. He has an agenda. I might not have much of a life if you weren't in it, but I would have died for sure if you forgot my name forever."

Her eyes now tearing too, she pulled him into a hug, kissing his throat, his smooth cheeks, his lips, whispering apologies and love words, once again under Spike's own particular thrall. And he was kissing her back, wanting nothing more than to take her on the wet ground, the rich smell of the earth and the rain surrounding them. But they weren't safe here, what with that demon still at large. His hands in her hair, he leaned back to look in her face. "As much as I'm cravin' a make-up tumble, we need to look alive, luv. We're not alone here."

She smiled softly up at him, her eyes glazed with desire. _This is the kind of spell I want her to be under, _he thought happily. She pulled reluctantly from his embrace, but took his hand so as not to completely break the connection.

"So, tell me, what was your plan here? I can see now that I must have been a giant wrench in the works." He laughed in agreement.

"That you are. Well, the plan was to take The Immortal to a dimension where he was well, _mortal,_ and put him out of my misery. That portal is supposed to open in an hour or three, and I'd go back through and swim back to you, claimin' Giordano was lost at sea. And it all would it worked if it hadn't been for you, my meddlin' kid…" She was looking at him skeptically again.

"Please don't think I'm doubting your planning abilities, but did you come with up this idea all on your own?" He seemed genuinely offended.

"Hey! You don't think brilliance such as that coulda come from my bean? Had you not come after me, I'd be dancin' on his corpse by now. If I had found him, that is…" Buffy raised a brow in disbelief. He was caught again.

"Alright, alright. I had a little help. From Captain Forehead himself. And Wolfram and Hart, Italia."

"Angel," she all but growled. "Why don't the two of you just hook up, because it's like you're already sharing one brain."

Spike didn't know what to be pissed off about first.

"I'm no poofter, luv, and for once he and I were of a mind, it's true. I hate to say it, but he's the only one I knew who would completely understand what I was goin' through. Plus, he has the resources to help me out." Spike looked around the rain forest they were standing in, allowing the loudness of the birds and animals to overwhelm him a moment. "I'm not exactly feeling particularly grateful to him at the moment, however."

Buffy sighed at their situation, at the absurdity of arguing in the middle of a jungle dimension with a killer demon on the loose. "Okay, we'll table that discussion for now. So, you say the portal should open again at any time. Obviously, we need to stay in this area. But what about Damian? I'm sure you're happy enough to just leave him here."

Spike shrugged. "I was gonna leave him here dead, but leavin' him to the fates and that spotted demon works for me too. The reopening of the portal is a one-time deal. If he doesn't show up when the portal opens, any objections to leavin' without him? I mean, you believe he's dangerous and all now, right?"

"Yes, Spike. Since we can't risk missing our exit to look for him, I guess that's all we can do."

They let the loud birdcalls fill the silence between them. Spike saw a downed tree and drew her to it with him so they could sit and wait. They were about to sit when Spike heard the slightest rustling of the undergrowth. His eyes scanned the area, all senses on alert for the return of the demon. Without further warning, he heard the _swoosh_ of the switchblade and felt the white-hot sting as it embedded in his chest to the hilt. He actually felt it puncture his lung and knick his heart, his breath flowing out of his body all at once. As he fell to his knees, two thoughts occurred to him: One: _I could really die from this now. _And two: _Why would a demon be wearing Gucci deck shoes? _

Then everything went black.

Chapter 10

Giles stood by Dawn, and a few potentials who had come to join them at Dawn's first excited yell. Members of Giordano's crew stood by anxiously, each carrying a life preserver at the ready. They all looked into the deep blue of the sea, the water so clear that fish were visible near the surface, and even the distant sandy bottom glimmered faintly in the sun. But there was no sign of Buffy. Or Spike. Or The Immortal.

"You're sure it was a portal?" asked Giles for the third time.

"Yes! Buffy and I both saw it swirling in the water. She thought Spike and Damian had fallen in so she jumped to save them." Just then, Dawn felt something bump and slide near her sandaled foot. She glanced down and saw that it was a cell phone, so she picked it up, flipping it open to try to identify the owner. As beaten up as it was, she knew it had to be Spike's. He was always dropping it because he consistently left it in his pocket when he was training, or accidentally knocking it off counters and onto the marble floors of the villa.

"Look," she said to Giles, "it's Spike's phone. He has five missed calls." She pressed a button to retrieve the numbers, and saw they were all from "The Poofter." She laughed before handing Giles the phone. "They're all from Angel, apparently."

"Why on earth would Angel be calling Spike? They're not exactly on friendly terms." He noticed Dawn looking away a little guiltily. "Do you know something about all this, Dawn?"

"No. I mean, I know Spike had something planned to get back at Damian," she whispered, mindful of Giordano's crew, "but I didn't know exactly what until I saw Spike go overboard after him. I assume it was part of the plan. Maybe you should call Angel back…"

"Quite," said Giles who was already doing just that. It only took one ring before the LA vampire picked up on the other end.

"Spike, this had better be good news, or I'm on the next plane to Rome."

"Angel, it's not Spike. Rupert Giles here. It would seem your plan with Spike has gone awry."

There was silence a moment, then Angel's voice went deadly quiet. "What happened? Is Buffy alright?"

"I honestly have no idea. I think it best you fill me in on the details of your plan so I can figure out how to rescue them all."

"Them? Dammit, I knew I couldn't trust that dumbass with the simplest idea! What has he done?" Giles told Angel all he knew, listening to the occasional expletive as the significance of the error began to sink in. In turn, Angel outlined the plan for killing The Immortal, giving Giles his turn to lambast both Spike and Angel for their reckless behavior.

"I get it Giles, I do. But all of this could have been avoided had you called me and checked out what we know about The Immortal using Wolfram and Hart's database before you involved Buffy and the others with him. Since both the Watcher's Council and Sunnydale were destroyed, you must be very limited on resources now. I know I'm not your favorite person, but I do have a great deal of information at my disposal. Seems reckless of you not to utilize that."

Giles had to bite his tongue pretty hard to keep himself from responding to that. In fact, since Angelus tortured him and killed Jenny Calendar, Angel was not the first one to come to mind when he needed trustworthy information. "Well, unfortunately we don't have the time to debate who's at fault here. What's the incantation to re-open this portal?"

"It won't do you any good to say the words," replied Angel. "It's set up like a timer, a one-time only thing for that part of the world. You have up to three hours from the time it opened before it will reopen in the same place. If Spike and Buffy aren't at the portal in the other dimension, it closes for good."

Giles sighed in frustration. "This is the most ridiculous, ill-conceived idea I've ever heard. So there's no helping them? We just wait and hope for the best?"

"I'm sorry, Giles. I wish I had better news. You know how I feel about Buffy, which is why I thought disposing of The Immortal was worth the risk. She wasn't supposed to jump in after them. Impulsiveness has always been one of her weaknesses."

"Yes, and Spike's too, unfortunately." There was another awkward silence, then Angel steeled himself for his next bombshell.

"Giles, I've got some more bad news. I've been calling Spike all day, but either he's been ignoring my calls or the idiot had it on silent. I hate to tell you this, but Wesley found some additional information about The Immortal that we didn't know when we first devised this plan. Seems the dimension I sent them to is The Immortal's home dimension. He is mortal there, as we suspected, but his physical powers are stronger. He'll also go back to his original form. We believe he came to our dimension for eternal life and other abilities he didn't have in his home world, like shape-shifting and mind control."

"So Buffy and Spike have no idea what they'll be confronting now. And do you know what The Immortal's 'original form' is in that dimension?"

"Yeah. He's a demon."

* * *

Buffy could hear the demon advancing on them as she desperately tried to help Spike. She'd quickly gotten over her shock and regained her senses enough to lay him flat on his back. She grabbed hold of the switchblade by the hilt, and, taking a deep breath, pulled on it as hard as she could. It slid out fairly easily, and she could hear Spike's breath rattle and gurgle through the hole in his lung. She prayed his healing powers would kick in before he died from lack of oxygen. She turned on the demon, switchblade at the ready.

"Listen, Mr. Ugly," she said, "I've about had it with you. Let's quit beatin' around the uh…jungle tree things, and finish this." She happened to look down and notice what Spike had earlier. "Hey…nice… shoes?"

At her words, the demon pulled up short, looking at her in a confused way, then down at his own feet. He tilted his head as if to say, "Huh?" Then it did say something. Something that sounded oddly like "_Buffy," _only much rougher and well, more demon-like. Buffy was usually pretty good at adding up clues—okay, until recently, that is.

"Damian?" she asked tentatively. "Is that you in there?"

"Grrrrr…"

"Is that a yes?"

But the strange conversation was interrupted by two other sounds occurring simultaneously. First, she heard Spike coming to with a moan, then, the portal suddenly appeared in the sky just beyond where the demon/Damian was standing. She risked a glance at Spike, thankful that his superhealing was finally working.

"Spike! The portal is opening again. Can you get up?"

"What? Yeah. Yeah. Let's get the fuck out of here. I feel like I'm balls deep in _Deliverance." _He was on his feet at once, clutching his heart instinctively, relieved to no longer feel the painful pressure of the blade. The Gucci-clad demon was still in their way, however, though somehow frozen in place. Having sized up the situation immediately, Spike wasted no time in sauntering up to the demon and putting all his power into a punch that left him sprawling. "Let's go, luv." He indicated the portal with a gallant hand. "Ladies first." Buffy looked hesitantly at Damian. Despite all he had done to them, she hated for it to end this way. He might have been trying to get into her pants, but he _had _supported their operation when no one else would.

"Buffy…" Spike prompted urgently, noting her hesitation.

"Oh. Right." With one last regretful glance at Damian Giordano, she jumped. Spike followed right behind her.

Their re-entry was a little wetter than their earlier exit. Though the sea was warm as bath water, it was still a little disorienting to be on land one minute, then under water the next. He swam up toward the sunlight, breaking the surface with a gasp. The Slayer was right beside him, holding on to a life preserver. The one intended for Spike knocked him in the head.

"Ow!" He looked up at the yacht, where Dawn was standing at the railing, laughing with relief. "Thanks, I guess," he mumbled. He ignored the preserver and swam the short distance to the yacht, watching in appreciation as Buffy climbed up the ladder just ahead of him. He could clearly see the outline of her thong through the wet, white Capri pants she wore, and a vision of a make-up shag flashed in his head. He grinned to himself. Perhaps his plan was going to work out after all.

Once on deck, Dawn hugged their wet bodies, excitedly recounting their trying hour and a half of fear and worry, while clucking with concern at Spike's bloodstained t-shirt. The potentials expressed their happiness that they were safely back, as Giles looked on, a disapproving expression on his newly-tanned face. A crewmember handed them towels, and Spike wiped his face and hair, preparing for the set-down the Watcher was sure to give him. He wasn't disappointed.

"Of all the reckless, idiotic plans I've ever heard of—"

"Spare me, Rupert. Had you been doin' your job, I wouldn't have had to take such extreme measures. And I'm gettin' bloody well tired of you second-guessin' me all the time. You're not _my _watcher, ya arrogant prick, and God knows you've not been much a one to Buffy in years. So take your high and mighty opinion and shove it up your arse, you poncey… wanker—" Spike threw down the wet towel for emphasis. Their audience was mesmerized.

"Now, see here—" began Giles, taking a step toward him. Buffy was immediately between them, a hand on each of their chests, pushing them apart.

"Okay, guys, stop it! If anyone is to blame here, it's me." That got their attention.

"How you figure that, luv?"asked Spike, palms still itching to take a long overdue swing at Giles.

"Buffy, no—"

"I fell for the tricks of The Immortal. I thought I'd learned my lesson with Dracula, but apparently I'm still highly susceptible to a sexy accent on top of thralling powers. Oh, and a little cash was more than enough to keep me that way, I'm ashamed to admit. So let's just try to get past this and chalk it up to lessons finally learned, okay?"

Neither man seemed willing to give an inch. "Okay?" She said again, looking them both in the eye menacingly. They nodded once and walked away to lick their wounds on opposite sides of the deck. Buffy watched them go with a sigh, indicating with a wave of her hands that the girls disperse; it was pretty crowded up there. She noticed one of the crewmembers seemingly anxious to speak with her, but reluctant to interfere in the strange drama unfolding around them.

"Scusi, Signorina," he said in his heavy accent. "Where is Don Giordano?"

Buffy looked back to where the portal had once been. "Lost at sea, I'm afraid. Fell overboard and drowned, despite attempts to save him. Lots of witnesses here who'll testify to that," she said meaningfully. Her guess was right that the man didn't want to be in the middle of a murder investigation.

"Si, signorina. I understand your meaning."

"Good. Maybe it's best you take us back to Rome now, what do ya say?"

"Si. We'll start right away."

Buffy looked over at Giles, still pouting by the railing, then at Spike, who was sitting in his previously vacated fishing chair, emptying his boots of water. She walked over and sat beside him. He looked up at her.

"You okay?" she asked, nodding toward his chest.

"Yeah, kitten. Been in worse scrapes, as you well know. But I'm not gonna apologize for what I said to Rupert. Meant every word, and every word needed to be said."

Buffy held up her hands. "I'm not arguing with you. But don't forget to blame me too in this. I'm feeling a little embarrassed at my part. But mainly, I'm ashamed of not listening to you, of blaming your jealousy for why you seemed to be going crazy."

Spike chuckled softly, his eyes going soft as he looked at her. "Oh, I was crazy, luv, don't doubt that. Had to be to call Liam for advice, yeah? But it's worth it all to get you away from the bleedin' Immortal, to get you to see that I wasn't exaggeratin'. And now we know what he really is, that he's capable of even more than I feared, I'm just grateful the bastard's gone."

She reached over to touch his cheek. "You forgive me then?" she whispered.

A semblance of his old cocky leer animated his face. "I'll find a few ways you can make it up to me. Starting with a shower. What do ya say, pet?" He left his boots to dry in the sun. "You think this tub's got a fancy stateroom somewhere?"

She took his hand and kissed his full lips, enjoying the shiver of need that passed through them both. "Let's find out."

A/N: Still more to come….please stay tuned!

Chapter 11

Spike came to the delicious conclusion that revenge was best served making love to Buffy in The Immortal's own bed. After the wondrous shower sex, in which they learned the benefits of multiple jets and removable shower heads, they continued to christen the yacht by moving to the giant round bed and with its champagne colored silk sheets and matching mile-high down comforter. He watched Buffy move above him, riding him to a fever pitch, her perfect breasts undulating as she rotated her hips around him in just the right way, damp golden hair occasionally tickling his thighs as she leaned back. The gentle motion of the boat added to the sensual experience, and Spike reached up to encircle her waist, then tongued each rosy nipple in turn, grinning against her skin when she moaned her approval.

He sat up, adjusting their positions so they were face-to-face, their mouths joining in imitation of their lower connection. He swallowed her cries as she came, contracting Slayer muscles bringing him quickly after. He collapsed on top of her, gathering her close, unable to move apart as their hearts pounded and their breaths came in gasps.

"Oh God," huffed Buffy into his neck, her hands running slowly up and down his muscled back. "That was…" she searched incoherently for the right word.

"Exquisite?" ventured Spike, his mouth at her ear. "Inspirational? Bloody brilliant?" She nodded and shivered once, then sought out his mouth again, lazily nibbling on his lower lip. After a few moments their eyes met and they smiled at each other, which quickly turned into carefree laughter at their ironic location. Spike pulled away from her reluctantly and lay on his back, staring up at the low, ornate ceiling in sheer bliss, his hand intertwined with Buffy's.

"Much as I love the poetic justice of being here, I can't wait to be back to our own bed, with things back to normal. Maybe I can get some sleep tonight."

"Whatever normal is for us," Buffy replied, snuggling up to his naked side. "You know, when you were a vampire, it was like waking the dead to snap you out of a deep sleep. I used to throw things at you and you didn't budge."

"It _was_ waking the dead, pet," he said affectionately, laughing at her choice of words. He kissed the hair at her temple.

"Yeah, I see now where they get that expression. In any event, you don't have to worry about me anymore, so I expect you to sleep deeply and without interruption. That's an order."

"It is, is it? Someone's awfully bossy. I shouldn't let you be on top so often."

When Buffy didn't respond with one of her usual snappy come-backs, Spike knew she was thinking about serious matters again. Just when he'd been so hopeful that now The Immortal was gone, they could forget their troubles. Buffy had told him Giordano's contribution was automatically deposited, so maybe that would continue and they wouldn't have to worry about money. Something told him that she wasn't going to be content accepting that things were going to be alright.

"You know, something was really weird about Damian in that other dimension, aside from the fact he was a demon and all. He seemed genuinely shocked at what he was, like he hadn't expected it. He tried to communicate with me, but I didn't speak spotted monster-ese."

Spike sighed in exasperation. "Now don't tell me you're feelin' sorry for him. Ya ask me, he got off easy, just havin' to stay in his home dimension. He's probably already back in the bosom of his family, literally bumpin' uglies with the nearest female, wreakin' bleedin' havoc so long as it's in any dimension but this one."

"You're probably right," she conceded, trying to forget about her concerns for the man who tried to seduce her away from Spike, and the demon inside that tried to kill him. Any lingering doubts she resolutely pushed aside in favor of the beauty of the man before her. She reached up to kiss his throat, one hand idly tracing the ridges of his perfectly formed stomach, one leg thrown over his hard thigh. He turned his head to look at her, that seductive gleam in his eye going along with the burgeoning length of him pressed against her.

"You're kidding me. Again? Already?"

"What can I say, baby? All part of the superman uh…package."

He spent the rest of the voyage home showing her just what he meant by that.

**Four Months Later…**

Carnevale Romano. Rome's original version of Mardi Gras. The craziness had hit Rome in anticipation of Lent, and Buffy and the potentials knew this would be an opportune occasion for vampires and other demons to blend in with the crowds and accost innocent victims. Also, Spike said New Orleans during Mardi Gras had been one of his favorite places once upon a time, tourists and drunks being easy pickins, with little attention paid to screams in the night. And so to fit in with the Romans, they all dressed for the festival in sixteenth century brocades and headdresses, some in masks, some even in motley in order to blend in and patrol. Each girl had weapons within the folds of her costume, and Buffy cautioned that while they could have fun, this was also a work night, so they must keep alert and lay off the booze.

Buffy looked like a Shakespearean maiden, her hair pulled back with a gold caplet, then cascading down her back in honey-toned ringlets. Her dress had a tight bodice that ended just past her waist in a _v_, deep red with gold trim, but she wore her favorite heavy boots beneath should she need to attack or defend in comfort. She was secretly glad of the heavy gown, as the night was February cold. Her mask matched her gown, with the striking addition of purple feathers attached to the upper corners. She batted her eyes flirtatiously at Spike, who occasionally stared in awe at her mysterious beauty. But she couldn't help doing some staring of her own. She remembered their conversation early in front of the long mirror in their bedroom…

Through much coaxing, Spike had finally acquiesced to wearing the costume she'd chosen for him. He wore a dark blue brocade doublet over a snow-white shirt, whose sleeves billowed out like a pirate's. Upon his head was a dashing slouched cap with a pheasant feather, covering the white curls Buffy insisted he left free of gel. He'd drawn the line at wearing a mask, balloon breeches and tights, so instead he wore navy blue slacks and his favorite black Doc Martins.

"I look like a bloody Nancy-boy," said the very masculine ex-vampire, unaware that his outfit only enhanced said masculinity.

"On the contrary," said Buffy, adjusting his collar as she stood behind him, admiring in the mirror how the blue of his jacket exactly matched his eyes. "period costume becomes you. Makes you look very sexy."

"Yeah? Sexy enough we could stay home and enjoy the run of the house while the birds do our patrolin' for us?" He turned away from their reflection and pulled her into his arms. She smiled as he nuzzled her ear, his hands moving to her breasts. Her hands reached up to cover his, stilling their enticing movements.

"Tempting," she breathed, "but this is a good training night for them, yet maybe a little too dangerous for them to be unsupervised. And with Giles in Cleveland…"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it." He let her go to finish getting ready. "But later, luv, you'll have a chance to make it up to me, won't you?"

She laughed, putting on her mask. "Okay. And I'll even leave the mask on," she promised as she watched his eyes smolder in anticipation. He began advancing on her again, but she flirtatiously evaded him and went out of the room and down the stairs, Spike close behind her. Had the potentials not been gathered in the foyer, Spike might very well have coerced her to go back upstairs. Instead, the young women admired each other's costumes and dipped into the open weapons box, preparing to descend upon the madness of Rome during Carnival…

Now, an hour into their patrol, the girls had split up into pairs, Dawn having met up with friends and leaving Buffy and Spike to their own devices. Buffy nonchalantly scanned the crowd, gripping Spike's hot hand as they waded through the press of boisterous humanity. It was difficult to say the least to catch scent or sensation of a demon over the smells and sounds of the excited people, but suddenly both Spike and Buffy noticed two vampires seeking to divide and conquer a bevy of teenagers who were watching a juggler in the square. Through eye signals alone, Buffy and Spike agreed to do some of their own dividing and conquering.

Spike took off after the vampire wearing black and white motley, and Buffy went for the vamp dressed ironically in a red satin-lined cloak that would have made Dracula proud. Wooden stake hidden within the sleeve of her gown, Buffy advanced on the vamp, allowing him to see her so that he would lead them away from the crowds in a vain attempt to try to escape the Slayer. He led her on a merry chase, but she caught up with him in a dark alley, far from the music and noise. He turned to confront her, speaking softly as if to a scared rabbit, in a language that Buffy thought might have been Slavic.

"I really wish you demon-types would speak English. It's so much less satisfying for me without the pre-staking banter." When she didn't understand his reply, she shrugged in disappointment and moved in to attack.

Buffy found her way back through the crush to the place in the square where she and Spike had first separated. She scanned the area, noting her potentials in various casual stances throughout the area, pleased at their watchful expressions. She listened to the troubadour who had replaced the juggler, brushing the vampire dust from her dress as she waited for Spike to rejoin her. She wasn't quite worried yet, but she didn't feel completely at ease until she saw his now hatless blonde head bobbing toward her through the sea of color. He was moving as if still in pursuit, and she felt her adrenaline kick in anew at the thought of another chase. He caught sight of her and paused.

"He double-backed on me," Spike told her, eyes darting through the crowd. "I think he headed toward that big house over there." He nodded toward an ancient looking palazzo with a courtyard surrounded by an ornate rot-iron fence. "Did you see him? He should have gone right past you."

Buffy shook her head, continuing on by his side. "No. I just got here. I must have just missed him. May as well check out the mansion." Before they got to the fence, Buffy saw Dawn nearby, busy eating some sort of cake and laughing with her friends. Their eyes met, and Buffy nodded to her in reassurance. She felt better knowing her sister was out of trouble for the moment.

They looked around before opening the squeaky gate, but no one seemed to see or care that they were breaking and entering into private property. The front door was locked, but Spike saw a stone stairway to the side of the house, leading down to what must be the basement. The door at the bottom of the steps stood slightly ajar. They looked at each other and went down the steps, Buffy's hand clenching her stake. Inside the door were more stairs leading down, and Spike lifted a torch from a rusted metal wall sconce and lit it with his Zippo. The light illuminated damp stone walls and stairs that continued down into the darkness. It looked to Buffy like the perfect location for a vampire's lair.

Perhaps a hundred steps later, and they hit a plateau where steps turned into corridor and the space widened. Water dripped from the ceiling, and the white veins of niter stretched creepily over the ceiling and walls. Away farther in, and they were at once surrounded on both sides of the passageway by shelves carved into the walls. Upon these shelves were the bones of the dead; they'd stumbled upon some family's tomb.

"I've read about this," Spike said, wrinkling his nose at the smell of old, damp decay. "Some wealthy families buried their dead beneath their houses. Lots of catacombs throughout Italy just like this." He moved the torch to illuminate what seemed to be names and dates of the departed carved into their stone graves. Rags that must have once been the clothing of the privileged barely covered their bones now, and any jewelry they might have had, had long since been stolen.

"Who'd want to live over a graveyard," asked Buffy with a shiver. "You smelling that vamp anywhere close?" She could no longer sense a vampire at all.

Spike sniffed the air. "I think he went this way. Vamps don't need light, you know. Likely he's got a nest farther down the passageway. You want to go on, or are you too creeped out and cold?"

"Yeah, let's keep going. I'm so amped up, the cold's not bothering me. And actually, it feels warmer down here than outside."

"Alright then." Buffy took his hand and found it to be surprisingly cool, but he squeezed hers and gave her an encouraging nod. They moved deeper into the catacombs, the pathway apparently grading downward slightly. Spike seemed unusually quiet, and in the eeriness of the catacombs she missed his amusing chatter. Abruptly, a huge iron door seemed to suddenly rise in their path, and Spike moved the torch closer to illuminate it. He reached out and pushed, and it opened on screeching hinges. Spike indicated that she precede him, and Buffy entered a small room that, by the look of the manacles chained to the walls, must have been at one time used as the house dungeon. Bones piled haphazardly in the corner of the room seemed to confirm her suspicion.

"We're at a dead end--literally," she said in disappointment. She noted there was no sign anyone had been living in the cell for some time. "He must have gone around the house instead of down here."

"Must have," concurred Spike dispassionately, uncharacteristically not angry at having lost his prey. He hung the torch in a sconce on the wall similar to the one he'd taken it from earlier. She met his eyes in the flickering light, but rather than soften with love as they usually did upon looking at her, they seemed to burn with an internal fire that she knew meant only one thing. She realized he was backing her slowly against the damp wall and when she felt it against her back, he stood only inches from her, his hands rising to caress her shoulders and run up and down her satin-covered sleeves. His dark blue eyes held her and she felt mesmerized, her breathing quickening as his lips lowered to hers.

She was immediately caught up in the passion of his mouth, and though something seemed a little different about the way he was kissing her, she surrendered to him without hesitation, moaning as one cool hand reached inside her bodice to fondle her breast, while the other began raising her gown and slipping inside the waistband of her panties, pulling them down with a swiftness that made her gasp.

In the back of her mind she wondered at her complacency in making love in the dank dungeon, at the subtle differences of his scent and in his touch. But none of it seemed to matter as she heard the hasty unzipping of his trousers and felt him impale her to the hilt with his hard body before pulling out and plunging back in with more force than finesse. But it all felt good and exciting, and her passion heightened when he spread her arms out wide against the stone, pausing in his thrusts to manacle both her wrists to the wall. Bondage had never been part of their sexplay, but Buffy was starting to reevaluate that notion as Spike continued to ravage her, tearing off her panties so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

Moments later she reached her peak, her heart pounding against her chest as she cried out. Spike continued pumping into her until he too roared his release, his face contorted in ecstasy, glistening in the flickering light with cold sweat.

"Amore mio," he breathed in perfect Italian. "That was everything I hoped it would be." Buffy opened her eyes, gasping as she was now looking into eyes the color of dark chocolate. Instead of her love, _her Spike_, she realized in horror that she'd just had sex with The Immortal, Damian Giordano.

A/N: Okay, so I blatantly stole from my favorite Edgar Allen Poe story, _The Cask of Amontillado._ So sue me—I'm having fun in my plagiarism. And please don't be too worried about poor Buffy. Sometimes, all is not what it appears…

Chapter 12

_Thirty minutes earlier…_

Spike followed the motley-clad vamp through the crowd, giving up saying "scusi" after he'd bumped into the hundredth person. _I'm bloody well tryin' to save their lives, seems to me they should be thankin' _me_ stead a givin' me dirty looks. _ He didn't bother picking up the damnable hat when someone had jostled it off, and it was swallowed up into the crush in his wake.

Spike had lost sight of him for a minute, so had to engage his nose in the hunt, though this particular vampire's smell was a little off. He'd reached a side road that was rounded off like a cul de sac, and obviously the end of the road for the parade they'd had earlier. Multicolored floats decorated with flowers and plaster figures were parked and abandoned in jumbled rows, and Spike wondered briefly how they'd ever be disentangled later. He knew the vamp must have come here. Tall old buildings surrounded the cul de sac, so if the vamp had escaped him, he either had gone up, or was hiding somewhere amongst the jetsam. He began looking under the flat bed trailers that held the floats, but saw nothing, straining his nose to pick up a whiff. It was sound rather than smell that gave the vamp away.

Spike turned around at the minute creaking of a nearby float, and was confronted with the giant paper mache figure of a black and white harlequin clown, belled hat and all. In either a strange bit of irony or a calculated risk, the vampire had chosen this particular float as his hiding place. The rest of the float was crowded with oversized flowers and piles of cheap beaded necklaces that hadn't been thrown to the people along the parade route. Spike smiled in triumph, hopping easily onto the platform. He pulled out his stake from his doublet, treading softly toward the sound.

"Come to Spike, you bloody coward," he murmured to himself.

So it was that Spike was completely taken off guard as he felt the sudden multiple strikes of the darts that peppered his chest and legs. He kept coming toward the vamp after the darts had all been fired, trying not to let the pain and debilitating poison slow him down. Whoever or whatever this vamp was, he'd somehow known it would take more than simple bullets to bring him down. Spike lost the battle and fell, cursing, at the vampire's feet. His last coherent thoughts were of Buffy. _She's gonna kill me for losin' that soddin' hat._

From out of the shadow of his giant twin, the vampire emerged to survey his handiwork. He wished he'd thought to leave a machete near where he'd hidden the dart gun, then he could have ended it once and for all. But getting blood on the man's costume wouldn't help him convince his next target that he was, in fact, Spike. As it was, the tiny holes the darts made might be somewhat noticeable if he wasn't careful when he began pulling them out.

It was very tempting to do away with Spike, but this stage of his revenge would have to wait; Buffy would come looking for her mate, and he didn't want to be found out just yet. His plan had been carefully conceived, and so far everything had worked perfectly. By now he imagined she had killed the vampire he'd sent her chasing—his instructions to him had been to lead her away from the square and evade her. Sadly, the poor creature wouldn't realize that the Slayer was the woman on his trail until it was much too late.

Spike was suitably unconscious when the vampire began gingerly pulling out the darts, then removing his costume. He zipped himself out of his own suit, hastily trading with Spike, down even to his boots, which he found to his annoyance were a little tight. He looked away in disgust at the now naked man, who lowered himself to going about in public without underwear. _How barbaric. _

Because it amused him, the vampire re-dressed Spike in the harlequin costume, thinking how Spike had always resembled a clown to him in so many ways. He pushed the lifeless body into a darkened corner of the float, and jumped down, heading back to the square. He'd gone only a little way before he remembered the last part of the disguise. With a shrug of his shoulders, the vampire suddenly shifted shape to become that of Spike, former William the Bloody, unrelenting pain in his ass. With a small smile, The Immortal melted again into the rabble.

****************

The familiar brown eyes regarded Buffy smugly; apparently The Immortal had no regrets for what he had done to her. He smoothed back his ruffled, now brown hair. Buffy closed her eyes to block out his face, then opened them again slowly. In that brief period of the darkness behind her eyelids, the world had drastically changed.

No longer was she manacled to the wall. No longer were her skirts up around her waist. She touched her hips with her free hand, feeling the lines of her panties, intact, beneath her gown. She could feel no evidence between her legs that she had even had sex. _What the hell?_

She looked around to see that she was still in the old dungeon, but Damian Giordano was leaning casually against the wall opposite her, arms crossed in relaxed fashion, eyes glittering darkly in the dank room. And he was smiling sexily at her.

"Damian," she murmured. "What just happened? I thought--"

"Was it good for you, signorina? By your moaning, you seemed to enjoy it."

"You were in my head. Manipulating me. Making me think you were Spike. Making me believe you'd—"

She realized she must be in shock, because she couldn't seem to get the words out. She shook her head violently, trying to erase the intrusion. That seemed to help somewhat, because she was suddenly very angry. He continued smiling, seemingly unconcerned, and stood up straight, readjusting his doublet. Buffy noted absently how she much preferred Spike's costume on Spike. _Spike!_

"Where's Spike?" she demanded. "What have you done with him? And how the hell did you get here?"

"Nothing that he would not have done to me." Well, that didn't sound good. "As for your second question, I simply followed you both out of my godforsaken home dimension through the portal you used. When we got into this dimension, I did not swim to the surface as you did; I swam deeper beneath the water, and hid beneath the yacht. Being immortal here, of course, I do not need to breathe underwater."

"And you've been biding your time until you could get back at me by raping me in my mind? And where's Spike?"

"Come now, Buffy. What makes you think I raped you? You believed you were making love to Spike. In Spike's form, I could just take you as I please, and you would not even protest, would you? Forgive me; I couldn't resist. I wanted to experience you just once before we say goodbye forever, even if only in our minds. I knew Spike had poisoned you against me by now, and this was my last chance to have you. Despite what you may think of me, I do not rape. I do not have to rape. I seduce. I encourage, but I do not take a woman against her will. I don't have to."

"You messed with my mind, another kind of rape as far as I'm concerned. Spike told me how you enthralled me before. It makes me sick to think of what I did with you. What you made me think I did just now. And dammit—where the hell _is _Spike?"

"I will never understand why such beautiful, exotic women like Drusilla and yourself would attach themselves to such a—_barbarian_ as William the Bloody. If you had let me, I would have shown you the world, lavished you with jewels and fine clothing. I would have shown you passion like you had never known. You believe me, don't you? I felt it when we were making love—"

"I wasn't making love to _you,_ Damian. In _my_ mind, that was Spike. And you're damn right I wouldn't have had sex with you without you somehow controlling my mind!" She'd suddenly lost patience with him, advancing on him until she'd pushed him hard against the stone wall. "So help me, if you don't tell me where Spike is right now, I'll—"

He smiled. "You'll what? Kill me? I cannot die here. You missed your chance back in the jungle. You should have killed me then, for now, only you can die, my sweet." That's when the intense pain of Spike's switchblade stabbed deeply into Buffy's chest. She looked down in surprise.

"I believe you dropped this somewhere," said The Immortal, turning the blade in satisfaction. Buffy landed one forceful though ineffectual punch before she dropped to her knees, the pain overwhelming her senses.

*****************

When Dawn saw Spike pass by again, this time in a crazy black and white clown costume, she knew something was up. She made a hasty excuse to her friends and followed him, calling his name as she ran.

"Spike!"

Instantly, he stopped and turned around, having picked up Buffy's scent at the exact moment he heard Dawn's high-pitched voice.

"Niblet! You seen big sis?" He tried to act calm, and he still felt a little dizzy from the poison his system was still fighting off. The tiny needle pricks had healed as soon as The Immortal had removed the darts, but he had no idea how long he had been out. No idea what might have happened to Buffy.

"Yeah, " replied Dawn. She'd known Spike long enough to recognize when he was hiding something from her. "Hey, what's with the new costume?"

"Long story, pet. Where's Buffy?"

"I thought you would know. I mean, she just went by me with you about twenty minutes ago."

"Huh? What? Where?"

She inclined her head toward the palazzo she'd seen them head toward earlier. "You guys were headed toward that big house over there. Don't you remember?"

"No," said Spike. "That wasn't me."

Chapter 13: Conclusion and Epilogue

Dawn was so used to the weirdness of the world where Buffy and friends lived, she barely felt surprised at Spike's statement.

"It wasn't you? So someone who looks like you is with Buffy now? We'd better go after them."

"Not _we,_ bit. Me. I'm goin' after them, but if we don't come out in half an hour, round up the potentials and send them after us. You stay behind, though, or your sister will skin me alive, ya hear?"

Of course Dawn was planning in her mind just exactly how she would help. But she nodded obediently for Spike's benefit. "Sure. Thirty minutes. You know who this guy is?"

"He might be a vampire, but then again, I'm thinkin' he's somethin' else entirely. Do as I say, Dawn, I mean it." He gave her the serious "look", which with anyone else would have brooked no arguments. Then, he was off again, zeroing in on Buffy's trail.

"I'll give you fifteen," said Dawn to herself when Spike was far out of earshot.

* * *

Spike's nose led him to the stairs beneath the palazzo. He followed Buffy's route unerringly, but he no longer smelled a vampire. He smelled an additional human scent, which seemed somewhat familiar, though still a little off. Someone was messing with his senses, but he had no idea how. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, and he was so glad this was one of the benefits he'd retained from his vampire days.

All at once the scent of the extra person he'd smelled came dramatically into focus. He'd smelled that scent more than once, masked slightly by expensive Italian cologne. The Immortal. _Fuck me. The bastard escaped that dimension. Why am I not surprised? Angelus is gonna pay for this…_

He slowed down his pursuit, forcing himself to think. _The Immortal must have shape-shifted into me_, he thought angrily. _So Buffy is likely not on her guard. I hope I'm not too late…_

Then he heard talking. Buffy's voice. And The Immortal's. He began running again, thankful she seemed to be alright. He wasn't listening to the words until he made it to a huge black door that looked like it had been there since the palazzo was built. It was open a crack, and he could see the flickering of torchlight.

"So help me, if you don't tell me where Spike is right now, I'll—" Buffy was saying. A few more soft words from Giordano, and the strong odor of blood filled the corridor. Buffy's blood. With a roar like an angry bear, Spike easily shoved open the door so hard it slammed against the wall, puffs of rock dust filling the air as it hit.

Spike took in the situation in a heartbeat. Buffy was on her knees, a knife hilt embedded in her chest. The Immortal stood facing Spike and the door in surprise, Buffy's blood smearing his hands and reddening the white shirt sleeve of Spike's previous costume. All he wanted to do at that point was tear the man's soddin' head off, but he remembered the pointlessness of trying. He knew in that split second there was only one thing left to do.

"Veneficus! Subsisto pro centum annus!" Spike held up his palm and watched in pleased amazement as his words instantly had the desired effect. The Immortal stilled at once, the look of surprise etched onto his face. Then he was at Buffy's side. A feeling of déjà vu nearly overwhelmed him, as he recalled how Buffy had seen him in this exact position four short months ago. He laid her on her back.

"You alright, luv?" He asked, his voice shaky and strained. She was looking at him thoughtfully.

"That really you?" she whispered.

He smiled. "I should be offended you thought that wanker was me. Now, be brave, kitten. I'm gonna pull this out. You ready?"

"Yeah," she said tightly, looking deeply into his eyes. "Quick, like a band-aid, okay?"

He grinned softly at her, love and admiration momentarily blocking out his fearful expression.

"That's ma girl. Now, on three—" He of course pulled it out on _two_. Her pained gasp made him want to die, but he pulled the switchblade out quickly, as she'd requested. He looked around for something to stave off the blood, and went over to where The Immortal stood frozen in place. Spike ripped off one of the sleeves of his shirt, hurrying back to press it to her wound. He paid no attention to the sound of Giordano's inert body hitting the stone floor.

"Can you sit up?" At Buffy's nod, he helped her to a sitting position. She saw Giordano's stiff form on the floor.

"What did you do to him?" She asked.

Spike grinned cockily. "Just a little magyck. One of the first things I did when we got out of that jungle was get hold of a witch at Wolfram and Hart. She taught me the incantation to put that menace in stasis for a hundred years." He looked around the room, observing for the first time that they were inside what looked to be an old jail cell. "And this will do nicely for his long imprisonment, don't ya think?"

Spike spied the chains on the wall, suddenly realizing what The Immortal's intentions had likely been for Buffy. Maybe for both of them. "Ya sick fuck," he muttered, going over to Giordano and dragging him easily to the wall. He propped him up against it and locked his hands in the manacles. His ragdoll head slumped forward, which Spike appreciated. The unblinking brown eyes were a little disconcerting. He could hear Giordano's heart gently pounding, and wondered if he was aware of what was going on around him. Spike picked up his head by the hair.

"If you can hear me, mate, have a look around, cause this will be your home for the next century. Hope you like these digs, but I guess if you thought if it was good enough for Buffy—" He let go of his head and watched it fall again. "If I could kill you, I'd bloody well rip you apart. But as it is, you'll be alone in the dark to ponder your sins." He looked over at Buffy, who was looking back at him, regret, pain, love, all shining from her eyes. "And I know from experience how hard that can be."

He turned his full attention to Buffy, bending over to pick her up in his arms, despite her protests. He kicked the door shut behind them, and Buffy was able to engage the shiny new padlock Giordano had thoughtfully attached to the outside.

"We better get out of here before Dawn calls in the cavalry," Spike said to Buffy, kissing her forehead as she nestled into his strong arms. As it was, they heard them halfway through the passageway_, ewing_ and _awing_ in whispers over the bones that lined the walls. 

"The Niblet needs to learn to take orders," Spike growled, pausing to listen. Buffy laughed softly.

"She's a Summers woman; what did you expect?"

"Yeah, and she'll make a great Watcher. Always thinkin' she knows what's best. Get herself killed is what she'll do."

Before they reached their rescue party, Buffy pulled down Spike's head for a deep kiss. He kissed her back, all that had happened with The Immortal finally sinking in. He could have lost her very easily a few times. He didn't much like that feeling. He pulled his head up only so he could tell her what he was feeling.

"I love you, my Summers woman. I didn't think it was possible to love you more than I did a few months ago. I was wrong. Promise me." He took a deep breath, blinked at the tears she couldn't see in the darkness. He took a deep breath and began again. "Promise me you'll let me take care of you. You'll listen to me when I tell you you're in danger. I couldn't bear to lose you again—"

"I promise," she replied, reaching up, feeling his tears anyway, feeling her own slide down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I swear I'll never doubt you again. You don't have anything more to prove to me, Spike. I owe you my life."

"No, pet. You already gave me mine. I'd say we're even." And he kissed her again, uncaring that Dawn and the potentials now surrounded them in the narrow passage, flashlights illuminating them like spotlights.

Epilogue

Three days of laying in bed, and Buffy had insisted she be allowed downstairs and out of the house. Spike carried her down (again, against Buffy's complaints) and bundled her up on the covered patio so she could see the snow gently falling and breathe in the fresh, cold air. She laughed as the girls played in the snow, especially when Giles was blindsided by an errant snowball on his way in from the car. Having grown up a Southern California girl, the snow was wondrous to her. Spike wrapped his duster around himself and sat on the chair beside her, chuckling as the girls ran screaming from Rupert's retaliatory throw. But his eyes were drawn back to Buffy. She looked so happy and innocent, her cheeks flushed with the cold. He knew she was dying to get out in it.

"You'll be better next week," he said, reading her thoughts.

She reached her hand out to hold his bare one, his high body temperature warming her through her glove.

"Then you and I will challenge the rest to a snowball fight. That would be good training for them."

"Yeah, should we meet the abominable snowman on a hellmouth in the Himalayas. You don't fool me, pet. You just want to get those pretty California toes of yours in the snow."

She met his eyes and smiled, squeezing his hand. A big square bulge in his jacket pocket caught her eye. She reached over to touch it through the leather.

"What's that?" she asked curiously.

He laughed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the box for her to see. "A present," he said

"A present? For me?" Her eyes lit up like a little girl's.

He laughed. "No, your gift is in my other pocket. I'm saving that for when we're alone." He felt the weight of the small jeweler's box that, though much smaller than Dawn's gift, was much heavier on his mind. He grinned mysteriously and waggled his eyebrows at her. She took the larger box from his hand.

"What's an IPod? I've only heard of horrible things coming out of pods."

"Well, if your sister puts her own music on it, 'horrible' is all that _will_ be comin' out of it." He briefly explained the concept, and she expressed her own interest.

"What's with the gifts? It's not my birthday for a few months. Is it an anniversary of some sort?"

"Don't you ever look at your calendar, luv? It's St. Valentine's Day." Her face fell instantly.

"I'm sorry. I forgot. I don't have anything for you." She leaned over and kissed him. "In a few days, when I get the all-clear, I'll make it up to you." He kissed her back gently, nervously thinking of the ring he would give her tonight. He was still second-guessing himself, wondering if it was too soon, if the old ponce William Pratt had been the one to retake his body this time. God knew others had been getting almost as much use of it as he had lately.

"That's what I'm hoping, sweetheart, " he told her, claiming her lips again.

*******************

Two nights later, Spike took a drag off his cigarette before replacing it again between his teeth. From the wheelbarrow beside him, he picked up another stone, laying it carefully next to the others on the wall that now reached waist high. He slapped more cement on it with his trowel, noting with satisfaction that once the wall reached the ceiling, the heavy black door would be completed covered, as if it had never existed. He'd searched for days until he'd found stones that appeared old enough and the right color to match those already in the catacombs. Spike quickly finished the job, laying the last stone on top, tapping it into place with a triumphant smile, as he threw down the butt of his smoke.

He reached into his jacket pocket for his silver flask, taking a big swig of bourbon. He raised it in silent salute to the man he'd just entombed, then gathered his masonry supplies, whistling the drinking song from _La Traviata_ as he pushed the wheelbarrow back down the dark passage.

**Finito**


End file.
